KING'5 
PLEASURE 


DOWNING 


COOLIDGE 


AT  THE  KING'S  PLEASURE 


UNIV.  OF  CALIF.  LIBRARY,  LOS  ANGELES 


'Mademoiselle" 


AT    THE    KING'S 
PLEASURE 

By 

EMMA  DOWNING  COOLIDGE 


ILLUSTRATED  BY 
ROLAND  S.   STEBBINS 


BOSTON,   MASSACHUSETTS 


COPYRIGHT,    1913,    BY 
EMMA     DOWNING     COOLIDGE 


All  rights  reserved 


To  My  Mother 


2126203 


Preface 

In  the  following  romance  I  confess  that  I 
have  exercised  an  author 's  privilege  in  sacri- 
ficing some  details  of  history  to  the  demands 
of  more  interesting  fiction.  Perhaps  it  would 
be  better  to  say  that  I  have  created  certain 
persons  of  title  that  the  glamour  of  their  rank 
might  serve  to  enhance  the  setting  of  the 
story.  The  majority  of  the  characters  are 
entirely  the  product  of  fancy  and  pleasure. 
The  hero,  to  whom  I  have  given  the  title  of 
Francis,  Comte  of  Angouleme,  a  man  of  about 
thirty  years  of  age  at  the  time  of  Louis  XII  's 
accession,  was  not  the  heir  to  the  throne. 
The  Francis  of  Angouleme  who  became  King 
as  Francis  I,  at  the  death  of  Louis  in  1515, 
was  only  four  years  old  in  1498. 

E.  D.  C. 


Contents 

Page 

Chapter  I  After  Many  Years 1 

Chapter  II  The  Magic  of  a  Song ...  20 

Chapter  III  The  Wandering  Jester ...  48 

Chapter  IV  The  Summons 65 

Chapter  V  The  Searchers  and  What 

They  Found 77 

Chapter  VI  The  Meeting 86 

Chapter  VII  A  Question  of  Honor ....  101 

Chapter  VIII  The  Journey's  End 112 

Chapter  IX  The  Mystery  of  Le  Capi- 

taine 127 

Chapter  X  An  Enchanted  Garden....  138 

Chapter  XI  The  Crisis 156 

Chapter  XII  Surrender 171 

Chapter  XIII  A  Dream  of  Spain 186 

Chapter  XIV  All  Roads  Lead— To  The 

King 202 

Chapter  XV  At  the  King's  Pleasure...  219 

Chapter  XVI  Night  and  Song  and  Love  236 


Illustrations 

Page 

'Mademoiselle" Frontispiece 

"Have  a  care,  fellow,  else  we  relieve  you 
of  your  disguise  and  show  you  to  be  a 
bigger  fool  than  even  the  motley  proves 
you" 64 

"It  is  my  heart,  Mademoiselle,  I  have 
sung  it  to  you  " 143 

"Thou  art  right,"  she  whispered,  "and  I 
love  theefor  it".  ,  228 


CHAPTER  I 
After  Many  Years 

Darkness  was  closing  in  upon  Paris  and  upon 
the  palace  of  King  Louis  XII  of  France. 
Silence  lay  upon  the  city,  but  it  was  the 
brooding  silence  which  signifies  passions  slum- 
bering and  which  prophesies  a  terrible  awaken- 
ing. Murmurings  and  discontent  had  been 
in  the  speech  of  men  for  many  days,  and  Louis 
knew  only  too  well  of  the  mutterings  which 
came  from  his  people. 

Couriers  and  officers  in  His  Majesty's 
service  had  been  traveling  for  weeks  on 
errands  of  state.  Through  all  the  city  and 
even  into  the  provinces  the  reconnoitering 
extended. 

At  the  palace  nobles  discussed  the  situation 
in  whispers,  the  while  with  watchful  glances 
they  observed  their  neighbors.  On  this  day 
messengers  had  been  hurrying  to  and  fro  for 
hours,  yet  none  amongst  the  courtiers  seemed 
aware  of  the  true  import  of  the  King's  activity. 
That  as  yet  no  crisis  had  been  reached  was 
evidenced  by  the  fact  that  the  grand  assembly 

1 


2  At  the  King's  Pleasure 

—a  nightly  occurrence — was  to  convene  as 
usual.  The  only  proof  of  uneasiness  was 
shown  by  the  unprecedented  gathering  of 
courtiers  in  the  throne-room  fully  an  hour 
before  the  King's  entrance  would  open  formally 
the  evening's  fete.  At  least  a  dozen  nobles 
clothed  in  court  attire  had  assembled,  and 
although  the  usual  merriment  seemed  absent 
from  the  company,  still  no  strange  or  sudden 
silences  had  marked  the  conversation. 

It  was  truly  a  beautiful  scene  in  the  throne- 
room.  The  richness  and  grandeur  of  furnish- 
ings of  gold  and  white,  the  sparkle  of  mirrors, 
the  gleam  of  lights  whose  crystal  coverings 
shone  as  jewels,  all  were  in  accord  with  the 
bright-colored  garb  of  men  and  women  in 
evening  dress.  Men  were  resplendent  in 
attire  and  head-dress.  Long  silken  capes  and 
full  breeches,  satin  slippers  buckled  with 
jewels,  and  hose  of  gorgeous  hues  displayed 
their  pride;  but  more  than  all,  the  white  pow- 
dered curls  which  graced  their  stately  heads 
were  worthy  of  attention.  Women  in  long 
silken  robes  fastened  high  at  the  waist,  with 
sleeves  hanging  full  and  loose,  displaying  the 
beauty  of  wrist  and  shoulder,  rivalled  the 
nobles  in  charm  of  raiment.  Jewels  gleamed 
in  hair  piled  high,  and  sparkled  on  throat  or 
fingers  as  well  as  upon  the  fancy  slippers. 
Yet  all  this  was  a  picture  common  to  the  court 


After  Many  Years  3 

and  so  tonight  no  second  glance  was  cast  by 
any  beholder.  Weightier  matters  absorbed 
all  attention,  and  the  hum  of  low-pitched 
voices,  with  now  and  then  a  chiming  laugh  or 
a  deeper  manly  note,  filled  all  the  room. 

Meanwhile,  in  her  apartment,  forgetful 
of  all  but  her  own  unhappiness,  the  Prin- 
cess Helene — cousin  to  His  Most  Gracious 
Majesty  King  Louis  XII  of  France — looked 
out  of  her  window  and  over  the  deserted 
gardens  to  the  great  wall  which  surrounded 
the  castle  precincts.  The  darkness  settling 
down  upon  Paris  held  yet  a  few  glimmers  of 
sunset  light  which  played  upon  the  battle- 
ments of  the  palace.  The  Princess  smiled 
sadly,  and  wondered  if  darkness  were  clos- 
ing around  about  her  also  and  destroying  the 
last  vague  hopes  which  she  had  cherished. 
It  was  time  for  her  to  prepare  for  the  evening 's 
assembly,  but  until  long  after  the  last  vestige 
of  light  had  left  the  grim  stone  towers  she  sat 
at  her  window  and  pondered.  Only  a  few 
hours  before  a  messenger  had  come  to  her 
from  the  King,  requesting  audience  that  night 
after  the  assembly,  and  while  she  could  not 
know  the  meaning  of  the  summons  her  heart 
was  troubled  with  doubts  and  perplexity. 
She  realized  that  her  happiness  was  in  the 
balance,  and,  realizing  it,  her  woman's  desire 
battled  with  her  princess's  pride. 


4  At  the  King's  Pleasure 

She  was  still  far  from  solving  her  problem 
when  the  door  was  opened  almost  noiselessly, 
and  the  rustling  of  a  woman's  draperies 
caused  her  to  turn. 

"Marguerite!"  cried  the  Princess,  softly 
and  gladly.  In  her  tone  was  the  love  of  one 
who  knew  and  trusted. 

"Your  Highness  does  not  send  me  away?" 
queried  the  other,  gently.  "I  dared  to  intrude 
despite  the  orders  given  your  ladies-in-wait- 
ing." 

"And  I  am  glad,  Marguerite,  that  thou  hast 
come  to  me." 

The  girl  came  to  her  side  and  looked  down 
into  the  great  saddened  eyes.  Instantly  her 
jesting  manner  changed  to  one  of  concern. 

:'Your  Highness  is  troubled,"  she  said 
anxiously,  and  her  voice  thrilled  with  tender 
sympathy.  "Helene,  tell  me,  what  has  hap- 
pened to  oppress  thee?" 

The  Princess  put  her  hand  upon  the  girl's 
shoulder  and  drew  her  down.  Gently  the 
maid-of-honor  sank  to  her  knees  beside  her. 
It  was  plain  that  here  no  thought  of  rank  had 
forbidden  friendship,  for  between  these  two 
existed  the  love  and  faith  which  made  con- 
fidences possible. 

"Look,  my  friend,"  cried  Helene  in  sorrow, 
as  she  thrust  a  parchment  into  Marguerite's 
hands,  "a  summons  from  His  Majesty!" 


After  Many  Years  5 

As  Marguerite  read  her  kindly  eyes  became 
grave.     "Dost  think,   then,   that  it  is   ill?" 
she  questioned.     "Mayhap  'tis  of  myself— 
she  faltered,  but  her  tone  belied  the  hope  she 
offered. 

"Nay,  Marguerite,  'tis  not  of  thee  that  he 
would  question  me.  I  fear — Lord  D'Antaur- 
ier—  '  she  also  faltered,  then  cried  passion- 
ately, "ah,  has  it  not  been  plain,  my  friend? 
Could  any  doubt  his  love  for  me?  Could  any 
question  that  I  have  been  exceeding  kind  to 
him?  The  King  saw — and  sent  him  on  a 
mission.  Not  yet  has  he  returned,  and  I 
fear —  she  choked  with  her  half-spoken 
terror — "Ah,  Marguerite,  for  days  this  fear 
has  haunted  me,  and  when  the  summons 
came  I  could  no  longer  drive  the  horror  from 
me.  He  will  not  return.  Death  awaits  him 
on  the  highway.  Assassins  of  the  King  will 
take  him  from  me.  Ah,  it  is  simple  when 
rank  forbids!" 

"Nay,  nay,  Princess!"  cried  Marguerite, 
aghast.  "Surely  not  that,  Helene.  He  will 
return  in  all  safety  to  thee — . " 

"But  this,"  interrupted  Helene,  tapping 
the  parchment.  "Ah,  no!  The  King  knows 
our  secret.  He  will  drag  it  from  me  tonight, 
and  then,  given  excuse — for  him — a  death 
sentence  or  imprisonment — if  he  returns  at 
all—." 


6  At  the  King's  Pleasure 

"Thou  lovest  him!"  exclaimed  Marguerite, 
with  conviction. 

The  Princess  shrugged  her  shoulders  half 
mockingly.  "What  wouldst  thou?"  she  de- 
manded, but  her  eyes  were  brimming  with 
tears. 

"Does  he  know?"  asked  the  other  gently. 

"Lord  D'Antaurier?     Nay.     Nay." 

"Thou  art  wrong,  Helene,  if  thou  lovest 
him,  not  to  admit  thy  love,"  rebuked  her 
friend. 

"I  am  a  princess,"  Helene  returned  with 
hauteur,  "he  a  noble." 

"And  a  man,"  added  the  lady-in-waiting 
softly,  then  she  laughed  derisively,  "which 
is  indeed  a  rarity  at  court." 

"What  meanest  thou?" 

"That  now  is  thy  moment  of  power,  Prin- 
cess. Demand  the  right  to  love  as  love  thou 
dost.  Demand  of  thy  King  his  consent  to  thy 
marriage  to  Lord  D'Antaurier.  Do  not  risk 
delay.  Answer  my  lord  as  fearlessly  and 
bravely  as  though  thou  wert  a  peasant  woman 
instead  of  a  princess.  Thou  hast  yet  a  few 
hours.  Use  them  for  thy  great  happiness. 
I  do  not  doubt  me  that  at  ten  tonight  the 
King  will  command  thee  to  wed  the  Prince, 
and  then  'twill  be  too  late.  See,  it  is  six  by 
the  clock  now.  Three  glorious  hours  are 
thine,  when  thou  enterest  the  assembly.  Ah, 


After  Many  Years  7 

Helene,  listen  to  me.  Yield  thy  pride  to  thy 
love.  Thou  wouldst  indeed  be  sorry  to  wed 
Francis,  Comte  of  Angouleme.  Yet  that  is 
what  thou  must  do  unless  thou  shalt  yield 
tonight  to  thy  woman's  heart.  Hear  me, 
dear,  before  it  is  too  late.  I  have  suffered 
from  false  pride,  not  only  in  my  girlhood  days, 
but  much  more  since  exile  sent  me  into  Spain, 
and  I  can  well  advise  thee  for  thy  happiness. " 

"What  knowest  thou  of  love — and  of  a 
woman 's  pride?"  asked  the  Princess  almost 
coldly  as  she  arose  and  left  her  window-seat. 
Her  eyes,  however,  watched  in  fascination  her 
companion. 

Marguerite  also  arose  and  went  to  the 
window  from  which  she  seemed  to  be  looking. 
Her  face  was  sad  with  a  strange  pathos,  and 
her  voice  when  she  spoke  vibrated  with 
intense  feeling.  Seeing  this,  the  Princess 
learned  for  the  first  time  those  hidden  secrets 
which  held  a  sorrow  deeper  than  she  had  ever 
known  could  exist,  and  she  knew  that  here 
was  a  sadness  whose  depth  she  could  never 
fathom. 

"What  knowest  thou  of  love?"  Marguerite 
repeated  softly,  and  she  faced  her  friend. 
"Only  such  as  all  women  learn  who  love— 
and  forfeit  happiness,  Your  Highness.  Once, 
not  many  years  ago,  I  learned  the  meaning  of 
that  wondrous  word — and  then — because  the 


8  At  the  King's  Pleasure 

man  who  loved  me  changed  his  views  on 
certain  subjects,  I  allowed  my  pride  of  noble 
birth  to  send  him  from  me.  I  silenced  his 
protests,  disdained  his  reverence,  sacrificed 
my  own  love.  Not  long  afterward  my  father 
and  I  were  exiled  to  Spain,  and  Victor  de 
Belleamie  did  not  even  know  that  I  had  left 
the  Province  of  Montarson.  He  was  in  Paris, 
I  in  Spain.  Since  the  day  I  scorned  him  I 
have  never  seen  him."  She  came  slowly 
toward  the  Princess.  "I  ask  Your  Highness 
if  this  sacrifice  has  paid.  Do  I  love  him  less? 
Nay — more.  Do  I  despise  him  because  he 
no  longer  serves  the  King?  Nay,  he  is  Victor, 
and  I  love  him." 

"He  serves  Le  Capitaine?"  the  Princess 
questioned  fearfully. 

"  I  know  not.  He  serves  the  King 's  denoun- 
cers. I  know  no  more." 

"Thou  hast  not  forgotten  him?  Do  none 
here  at  court  make  thee  forget  his  face?" 

"Princess,  thou  sayest  thou  knowest  love. 
None  can  take  his  place.  And  soon  thou  wilt 
learn  that  none  can  take  the  place  of  him  thou 
lovest.  I  pray  thy  knowledge  may  not  come 
too  late,  as  did  mine. " 

"  What  wouldst  thou  have  me  do?  Remem- 
ber I  am  a  princess. " 

"And  a  woman! — with  a  woman's  contrari- 
ness and  her  helplessness.  Yet  thou  hast 


After  Many  Years  9 

managed  to  keep  trace  of  Lord  D'Antaurier, 
and  await  his  return  with  eager  anxiety.  Mes- 
sengers are  on  the  lookout  daily  for  his  arrival, 
and  they  are  of  the  Princess's  choosing,  not 
of  the  King's." 

"How  knowest  thou  this?"  exclaimed  the 
Princess  with  chagrin. 

Marguerite  only  smiled  wistfully.  "I  be- 
lieve, Helene,  that  he  will  come  tonight,  and 
thou  must  be  ready  to  receive  him.  Come, 
put  thyself  in  my  hands,  and  let  me  wield  thy 
future  in  this  hour.  Wear  thy  gown  of  white, 
and  around  thy  throat  thy  collarette  of  pearls. 
In  thy  hair  a  rose — but  one — a  full  blown,  red, 
red  rose,  the  token  of  thy  love.  Then  wilt 
thou  be  beautiful  in  thy  simplicity.  Smile 
upon  him  when  he  comes,  not  merrily  nor 
mockingly,  but  wistfully  as  now.  Let  thine 
heart  speak,  Helene,  and  bring  joy  to  thee  as 
well  as  to  him." 

Eagerly  the  Princess  had  listened  to  her 
words.  Pride  had  fled  from  her  face,  leaving 
it  tenderly  sweet  and  wistful. 

"I  yield  me,  Marguerite,"  she  said  tear- 
fully. "Do  with  me  as  thou  wilt.  I  love 
him." 

In  the  throne-room  affairs  of  state  were 
still  being  discussed.  Suddenly  above  the 
murmuring  of  many  voices  there  came  the 


10  At  the  King 's  Pleasure 

announcement  of  a  page  as  he  held  aside  the 
drapery  for  a  noble  to  enter,  and  at  the  men- 
tion of  his  name  many  turned  to  observe  the 
newcomer. 

One  of  the  nobles  who  had  been  a  silent 
listener  in  a  group  of  officers,  a  man  between 
fifty  and  sixty  years  of  age,  made  his  way 
quickly  to  meet  this  courtier  and  fellow- 
soldier  just  entering,  and  extended  his  hand 
in  cordial  welcome. 

"Ah,  my  Lord  DeChatton,  I  give  you 
greeting!  It  is  some  time  since  I  have  had 
that  honor  here  at  court. " 

"True,  Monsieur  Beaumon, "  responded 
the  other  in  a  full,  deep  voice  which  was 
pleasing  to  the  ear.  'Tonight  for  the  first 
time  in  many  months  I  have  come  to  the 
assembly.  To  be  sure,  I  have  not  all  that 
time  been  absent  from  Paris,  but  only  yester- 
day I  returned  from  Montarson. " 

"Montarson."  M.  Beaumon  repeated  the 
name  dreamily  and  sadly.  "That  name, 
Monsieur,  holds  many  memories  for  us  both. 
Is  there,  then,  news  from  the  Province?" 

"Very  little,  Monsieur,"  was  DeChatton 's 
sorrowful  reply.  "Gloom  and  despair  seem 
to  have  settled  down  upon  our  once  happy 
valley.  Those  whom  we  knew  and  loved 
best  no  longer  dwell  there,  but  are  wandering 
none  knows  where.  Those  remaining  have 


After  Many  Years  11 

sunken  into  the  calm  which  proclaims  unhap- 
piness  and  the  death  of  hope.  Since  the  tur- 
moil which  ended  in  exile  to  Spain  for  so 
many  of  our  people,  little  of  moment  has 
befallen  the  Province.  You  have  no  doubt 
heard  much  of  that  history  and  of  the  desola- 
tion which  filled  all  our  valley  at  that  time." 

"Ah,  yes,  my  lord,  of  that  and  of  many 
other  events,  which,  because  they  preceded 
this,  have  become  insignificant  in  comparison 
to  all  but  a  few  people.  Though  it  is  now 
many  years  since  I  have  been  to  Montarson, 
as  you  know,  still  I  live  much  in  its  past.  I 
know  that  Victor  is  no  longer  in  the  province 

"  he  broke  off  abruptly,  and  then  continued 
as  if  remembering  the  presence  of  others— 
"surely  there  has  come  some  word  from  the 
Marquis  de  Belleamie  since  he  left  Montar- 
son?" 

"Nay,  Monsieur,  there  has  come  no  mes- 
sage, "  returned  DeChatton,  sadly.  "It  seems 
unreal  to  me — the  events  of  the  past  few  years. 
It  seems  but  yesterday  that  we  daily  were 
guests  at  the  chateau  of  his  father,  and  that 
we  were  instructing  Victor  in  the  arts  of 
riding  and  of  sword-play." 

Monsieur  Beaumon  nodded  but  did  not 
speak. 

"Yet  I  was  never  as  were  you  to  the  lad," 
continued  DeChatton,  "and  thus  I  have  often 


12  At  the  King's  Pleasure 

marveled  at  his  sudden  departure  from  the 
Province,  and  even  more  at  his  change  of 
views.  Never  had  the  King  more  loyal 
subject  than  the  elder  Marquis,  and  so  it  is 
the  stranger  that  his  son,  instilled  through 
youth  with  admiration  for  royalty,  should 
have  forsaken  his  father's  party  to  join  with 
the  rabble  of  Paris  headed  by  Le  Capitaine. " 

"Yet,  my  lord,"  interposed  M.  Beaumon, 
"this  same  party  which  you  term  'rabble'  is 
composed  of  many  of  those  whose  houses 
trace  back  to  royal  blood,  and  who  in  bygone 
centuries  served  at  their  sovereign's  throne." 

At  this  remark  significant  glances  and  nods 
of  acquiescence  were  exchanged  by  several 
courtiers.  During  the  pause  which  ensued, 
an  officer  of  the  guard,  accompanying  a 
woman  gowned  in  evening  dress  of  black 
velvet,  entered  the  assembly,  and  they  made 
their  way  to  one  of  the  groups  near  the 
speakers.  Neither  of  the  latter  gentlemen 
appeared  to  notice  their  arrival,  yet  they  were 
greeted  by  gravely  polite  bows  from  all  nobles, 
as  befitted  one  who  held  the  honored  position 
of  maid-of-honor  to  the  Princess  Helene. 

Presently  DeChatton  aroused  from  the 
deep  reverie  in  which  he  had  been  sunk,  and 
adcLressed  his  friend  in  a  meditative  manner. 

"This  calls  to  my  mind  vague  rumors 
which  have  come  to  us  from  Spain.  They 
concern  the  Marquis  de  Bonnavite. " 


After  Many  Years  13 

M.  Beaumon  nodded  as  he  made  answer. 
"He  it  was  who  served  so  well  in  wars  of 
France  when  King  Louis  was  only  Due  of 
Orleans,  and  who  returned  to  Montarson  to 
wed  the  maid-of -honor  to  the  queen." 

DeChatton  cast  a  keen  glance  upon  the 
other.  "A  maiden  renowned  for  wit  and 
beauty  through  all  the  realm  even  as  was  her 
daughter  after  her  before  exile  became 
her  lot,"  added  he,  softly. 

M.  Beaumon  paled  and  his  hand  clenched 
nervously  upon  his  scabbard.  ''You  have 
news  of  them,  the  Marquis  and  his  daughter?" 
His  voice  sounded  harsh  and  dry  as  from  great 
emotion. 

"Rumors  only,  but  rumors  which  may 
prove  too  true.  It  is  said  that  the  Marquis 
succumbed  to  his  long  journey  and  died  short- 
ly after  reaching  Spain.  The  girl,  thus  left 
alone,  took  refuge  with  friends  among  exiles; 
but  her  lot  must  be  a  sad  and  dreary  one. 
Courted,  feted,  wooed,  and  worshipped  as  she 
was  in  their  chateau  at  Montarson,  her  present 
plight  is  doubly  hard  to  think  upon.  It 
would  seem,  M.  Beaumon,  that  cruel  fortune 
has  turned  a  cheerless  back  upon  the  two 
whom  we  most  greatly  loved.  The  maid,  a 
wanderer  in  a  strange  land,  the  youth  no  less 
so,  and  lost  to  us  so  far  as  word  can  bring  us 
hope.  Methinks,  too,  that  the  friendship 


14  At  the  King's  Pleasure 

which  once  did  exist  between  them  has  been 
rudely  shattered.  Formerly  I  did  dream  that 
love  for  the  other  would  spring  up  in  each 
heart;  but  even  though  it  may  have,  he  left 
in  coldness  for  the  duties  of  Paris,  and  I  doubt 
if  he  even  knows  that  she  is  an  exile  in  Spain. 
Sometimes,  my  friend,  I  feel  that  we  shall 
never  again  look  upon  either  of  these  children. 
But  there  is  something  of  which  I  would  speak 
to  you.  I  would  not  press  your  confidence, 
M.  Beaumon,  but,  as  you  know,  I  love  the 
young  Marquis,  and  I  would  like  to  learn  the 
cause  of  his  sudden  departure  to  Paris  and  of 
his  change  in  opinions.  I  realize  that  you 
who  are  acquainted  with  his  every  mood  must 
have  guessed  this  riddle.  I  would  that  you 
could  trust  me  enough  to  explain  his  demean- 
or. He  was  ever  grave  and  thoughtful,  wise 
beyond  his  years,  not  given  to  wine  and 
merrymaking,  neither  was  he  easily  influenced. 
No  passing  fancy,  therefore,  led  him  to  desert 
the  royal  cause,  but  some  more  worthy 
motive  which  was  not  the  quick  growth  of 
idle  words  spoken  by  some  enthusiast. " 

M.  Beaumon,  who  had  been  eyeing  his 
companion  steadily,  made  grave  reply.  '  You 
are  right,  Lord  DeChatton,  Victor  de  Belle- 
amie  grew  from  a  studious,  thoughtful  youth 
to  a  more  serious,  thoughtful  manhood.  His 
mind  dwelt  upon  things  which  are  not  often 


After  Many  Years  15 

in  the  minds  of  lads  just  entering  the  merry 
heyday  of  gallants.  But  in  all  his  life  there 
was  a  deeper  note,  a  desire  for  good,  a  yearn- 
ing for  truth,  and  a  seeking  for  wisdom. 
Around  him  were  companions  whose  desires 
turned  upon  wine  and  carousal,  and  these 
accompanied  by  vice  in  all  its  evil  forms. 
He  saw  the  shallowness  of  such  a  life  as 
portrayed  by  those  young  nobles  of  the  court 
who  had  respect  for  no  one,  either  man  or 
woman — far  less  for  the  latter,  God  knows! 
—nor  even  for  the  King  himself.  Chivalry 
was  to  him  a  virtue  inherent,  not  acquired. 
Woman  meant  for  him  the  shrine  where  all 
true  men  should  worship.  Courage  sustained 
conviction.  Truth  defended  honor,  and  honor 
was  the  one  firm  principle  of  his  great  man- 
hood." 

The  noble  delivered  his  words,  a  torrent  of 
eloquence,  to  all  his  hearers.  Then  he  turned 
to  his  audience,  and  with  hand  extended 
in  partial  appeal  and  in  partial  censure,  ad- 
dressed them: 

"You  know  whereof  I  speak — you  who 
have  dwelt  in  courts  of  kings  for  many  days. 
Does  peace  lie  within  its  realm?  Truth,  say 
you?  Bah!  Courage?" —he  shrugged  his 
shoulders—  •"  the  courage  which  is  worse  than 
cowardice.  Sincerity?  You  trust  few  of  your 
fellow-courtiers  and  rightly  so.  Fidelity? 


16  At  the  King's  Pleasure 

Ah,  you  smile !  And  lastly  honor,  then?  You 
blush  with  shame,  and  your  eyes  speak  knowl- 
edge of  the  court.  Few  among  us  know  the 
meaning  of  the  word. " 

jMany  of  the  women,  whose  faces  had 
crimsoned  beneath  his  scornful  charge,  turned 
haughtily  away;  and  men  could  not  meet  one 
another's  gaze. 

"And  that,  Friend  DeChatton,  is  the 
answer  to  your  question.  Not  here  in  service 
of  his  King  could  Victor  find  the  sum  of  his 
ideals.  There  was  the  other  course,  and  the 
only  one.  He  took  it,  and  therein  do  I  honor 
him." 

There  was  a  silence  of  shamed  acknowledge- 
ment of  the  speaker's  home  truths,  then  she 
who  wore  the  black  velvet  robe  stepped  out  of 
the  group  surrounding  and  impulsively  ap- 
proached the  noblemen. 

"My  Lord  Beaumon,  you  speak  harshly  of 
your  court  and  of  your  noblemen  and  women, 
yet  we  must  admit  the  truth  of  your  stern 
words,  though  to  our  great  shame  and  unhappi- 
ness,  be  it  said.  This  man  of  whom  you  speak 
-Victor  de  Belleamie — is  not  unknown  to  us 
at  court  even  though  he  scorned  to  join  the 
throng  of  nobles  as  was  his  right  by  birth.  Yet 
there  are  some  who  do  not  judge  him  ill  on  that 
account.  Nay,  mayhap,  we  also  honor  him, 
for  even  here,  my  lord,  corrupt  and  poor  as 


After  Many  Years  17 

you  may  esteem  us,  there  are  some  who  love 
those  virtues  which  you  believe  are  foreign  to 
our  court." 

DeChatton  had  turned  aside  when  the 
noblewoman  had  approached  M.  Beaumon, 
but  at  the  first  sound  of  her  melodious  voice 
he  faced  about  in  eager  questioning.  At  sight 
of  her  his  lips  parted,  and  he  made  a  step 
toward  her  as  if  to  address  her.  Then, 
realizing  the  situation,  he  again  turned  away 
and  went  to  the  balcony  window  behind  all 
courtiers,  whence,  unobserved,  he  could  watch 
this  woman  whom  he  had  recognized. 

M.  Beaumon  stared  in  confusion  at  the 
beautiful  woman  before  him  whose  plea  had 
touched  a  tender  chord.  He  took  a  quick 
step  toward  her,  fascinated  by  the  expression 
in  her  countenance. 

"My  lady,  I  crave  your  pardon  for  my 
harsh  words,  and  for  the  lack  of  faith  I  have 
displayed.  One  needs  only  to  look  upon  such 
women  of  our  realm  to  know  that  all  nobility 
has  not  succumbed  to  the  corruption  of  a 
pleasure-seeking  court. " 

Her  face  softened  and  she  held  out  her  hand 
to  him.  He  made  as  though  to  kiss  it,  but 
she  restrained  him.  "Nay,  my  Lord  Beau- 
mon, I  wish  to  shake  your  hand  in  friendship, 
and  I  would  question  you  concerning  the 
Province  of  Montarson  if  you  will  permit." 


18  At  the  King's  Pleasure 

"  Gladly ! "  The  nobleman  proffered  his  arm 
which  the  woman  graciously  accepted,  and 
they  went  slowly  toward  the  balcony  window 
where  they  could  converse  unheard. 

"It  is  evident,  Monsieur  Beaumon, "  the 
clear  contralto  voice  continued  before  he  could 
speak,  "that  you  have  forgotten  me.  And  yet, 
not  many  years  ago,  you  did  declare  that  you 
would  know  me  anywhere  and  under  any 
circumstance.  Look  upon  me  well.  Come, 
have  I  so  changed  that  Victor's  playmate  is 
unknown  to  you?" 

"Marguerite!"  cried  the  courtier  bewilder- 
edly,  and  tears  of  joyful  recognition  sprang  to 
his  kindly  eyes. 

The  maid-of -honor  laughed  delightedly,  and 
clasped  her  hands  tightly  over  his.  Then 
once  more  she  heard  her  name  and  she  turned 
in  surprise.  A  moment  she  looked  fixedly  at 
the  man  beside  her,  then  her  face  lighted,  and 
with  a  cry  of  gladness  she  held  out  her  hands 
to  him. 

'My  Lord  DeChatton!" 

"Marguerite!"  was  all  he  could  reply. 

"Marguerite,  yes,"  she  said  in  a  low  tone, 
"but  not  Bonnavite.  Only  the  Princess  Hel- 
ene  knows  my  true  name.  I  rest  in  her 
protection.  After  the  death  of  my  father, 
the  rumor  of  which  has  reached  you  as  I 
heard  you  say  but  now,  I  returned  from  Spain 


After  Many  Years  19 

and  gained  admission  to  the  palace  and  to 
Princess  Helene  in  the  garb  of  a  nun.  As  I 
had  hoped  when  I  had  told  her  my  history, 
she  took  me  under  her  protection,  made  me 
her  maid-of-honor,  and  introduced  me  as 
Marguerite  Montarson.  The  King  last  of  all 
must  learn  the  truth.  I  trust  in  your  discre- 
tion. But  tonight  when  I  saw  you,  Monsieur 
Beaumon,  and  heard  you  mention  Victor's 
name,  I  could  not  conquer  my  desire  to  make 
myself  known  to  you.  Tell  me,  then,  of  Victor 
and  of  my  home.  I  am  hungry  for  the  news. " 
<J&It  was  some  time  later  that  M.  Beaumon 
turned  to  DeChatton  and  said  huskily: 

"And  you  said,  friend,  that  we  should  never 
see  this  maid  again. " 


CHAPTER  II 
The  Magic  of  a  Song 

It  was  in  the  year  1498  that  King  Charles 
VIII  of  France,  only  son  of  Louis  XI,  died 
without  male  heirs,  and  with  his  death  the 
rule  of  his  sister,  Anne  of  Beaujeu,  who  had 
been  the  actual  power  behind  the  weak  king, 
came  to  an  abrupt  end.  Louis,  Due  of 
Orleans,  his  cousin  and  brother-in-law,  was 
crowned  under  the  title  of  Louis  XII.  Thus 
in  his  thirty-sixth  year  Louis  of  Orleans 
reached  the  zenith  of  his  ambitions,  and 
gained  at  length  the  power  which  he  had 
coveted  and  striven  to  possess  by  more  than 
one  intrigue  against  the  powerful  Anne  of 
Beaujeu. 

But  Louis  XII  did  not  find  the  rule  of 
France  an  easy  task.  With  his  success  came 
troubles  also  in  triple  force.  As  Due  of 
Orleans  he  had  been  well-beloved  by  many 
followers,  worshipped  by  his  soldiers,  and 
admired  by  the  staunch  old  nobles  of  the 
provinces.  All  had  been  bound  to  him  by 
ties  of  loving  homage.  His  trials  in  war  and 

20 


The  Magic  of  a  Song  21 

in  adversity  had  given  him  the  sympathy  and 
kindly  feeling  toward  his  people  that  had  won 
for  him  all  hearts. 

But  to  inherit  the  crown  was  to  inherit 
likewise  the  enemies  of  its  former  possessors, 
and  both  Louis  XI  and  Charles  VIII  left  many 
such  bequests  to  their  royal  cousin.  The 
conquest  of  Italy  had  long  been  the  cause  of 
much  bitter  feeling  on  the  part  of  the  common 
class  of  France  upon  whom  fell  the  burden  of 
taxation  and  military  service  which  exposed 
their  families  to  want  and  suffering.  Although 
Louis  XII  reduced  taxation  as  soon  as  he 
became  king,  still  the  people  remained  suspi- 
cious when  they  saw  him  turning  eager  eyes 
upon  the  Venetian  possessions.  They  be- 
lieved that  they  were  being  pacified  only  until 
such  time  as  the  King  should  choose  to  renew 
the  struggle  abroad. 

For  yet  another  act  of  Louis  XI 's  did  his 
successors  suffer — the  wholesale  vengeance 
which  that  King  had  taken  upon  nobles  and 
others  whom  he  had  discovered  in  plots  against 
the  crown.  Innocent  sons  of  the  highest 
families  had  been  imprisoned  or  beheaded  to 
satisfy  the  King  in  his  bitter  desire  for  punish- 
ment. Naturally  the  nobles  who  remained 
of  those  houses  upon  whom  such  cruel  wrong 
had  been  visited,  could  neither  forget  nor 
forgive  the  family  royal. 


22  At  the  King's  Pleasure 

There  was  yet  another  reason  why  the  new 
King  of  France  found  his  first  year  of  rule  a 
most  unhappy  one.  At  fourteen  he  had  been 
forced  into  a  loveless  marriage,  for  reasons  of 
state,  with  King  Louis  XI  's  crippled  daughter, 
Joan,  and  he  had  uncomplainingly  borne  for 
twenty-two  years  the  burden  of  an  alliance 
hateful  to  his  pleasure  and  beauty-loving 
nature,  though  the  marriage  was  one  in  name 
only.  Now,  freed  by  the  deaths  of  both 
kings,  he  endeavored  to  set  aside  his  unloved 
wife  and  to  enter  upon  an  existence  in  which 
his  own  wish  should  have  full  sway,  and  he 
could  enjoy  every  man's  birthright  of  freedom 
of  will. 

These  circumstances  together  with  the  jeal- 
ousy of  the  deposed  Anne  of  Beaujeu  worked 
to  his  disadvantage;  and  it  was  at  this  time 
that  his  secret  enemies  gathered  together  their 
forces  to  make  demands  which  the  new  king — 
harassed  abroad  by  his  foes  among  the  Vene- 
tians, Swiss,  Spaniards  and  English,  and  at 
home  by  Joan's  and  Anne's  partisans — could 
not  meet. 

It  was  not  until  a  later  period  that  he 
entered  into  marriage  with  Anne  of  Brittany, 
from  which  day  his  troubles  dispersed  and  he 
led  a  more  contented  life  than  many  of 
France's  sovereigns,  becoming  a  generous  and 
kindly  ruler  and  the  far-famed  "father  of  his 
people. " 


The  Magic  of  a  Song  23 

The  Huguenots  and  Catholics,  even  now 
ready  to  burst  into  riot,  were  not  the  least 
annoying  of  his  foes.  Then  another  party, 
composed  of  both  sects,  whom  some  few 
grievances  in  common  had  joined,  in  a  night 
became  powerful  and  insistent.  The  leader 
of  this  party,  Le  Capitaine,  so  called,  was  a 
man  whose  identity  remained  concealed,  yet 
if  his  name  and  station  were  unknown,  not  so 
his  deeds,  for  today  all  Paris  rang  with  the 
news  that  he  was  feared  by  none  other  than 
King  Louis  XII  himself.  Why?  The  ques- 
tion found  voice  upon  all  sides,  and  meanwhile 
the  castle  trembled  beneath  the  questioning. 

It  was  this  which  held  all  attention  in  the 
throne  room,  yet  none  had  dared  to  speak 
the  momentous  solution.  The  conversation 
which  had  been  even  enough  during  the  quiet 
aside  of  Monsieur  Beaumon  and  his  compan- 
ions, now  became  heated  and  loud.  Indeed, 
the  anger  in  one  nobleman's  tone  caused  all 
to  turn  questioningly  toward  the  speaker. 

"You  doubt,  then,  my  veracity,"  the  voice 
demanded.  "Let  me  say  to  you,  Lord  Mari- 
enne,  that  I  know  that  His  Majesty  signed 
the  pardons. " 

'Then,  my  lord,  they  have  miscarried," 
returned  Lord  Marienne  quietly,  "for  it  is 
now  two  months  since  word  has  come  from 
Spain,  and  if,  as  you  say,  my  lord,  the  pardons 


24  At  the  King's  Pleasure 

were  then  signed  they  surely  should  have 
reached  the  hands  of  those  for  whom  they 
were  intended." 

Marguerite  glanced  fearfully  at  her  com- 
panions. 

"True,  Lord  Marienne,  and  that  is  my 
point.  I  believe  that  those  papers  never 
reached  Spain.  Had  they  been  safely  deliv- 
ered the  exiles  would  have  been  in  Paris  by  this 
time.  It  is  my  opinion  that  they  have  fallen 
into  the  possession  of  none  other  than  Le 
Capitaine,  and  that  this  fact  accounts  for  the 
mysterious  doings  of  to-day.  Should  he 
make  demands  upon  the  King  under  such 
circumstances,  they  must  be  complied  with. 
We  all  have  learned  what  is  the  chief  desire 
of  the  people.  I  prophecy  that  if  Le  Captaine 
holds  these  papers,  we  shall  shortly  hear  His 
Majesty  announce  the  betrothal  of  the  Prin- 
cess Helene  to  the  Comte  of  Angouleme. " 

"An  order  not  much  to  the  taste  of  my 
Lord  D'Antaurier,  I  warrant!"  exclaimed 
Lord  Marienne. 

"Nor,  mayhap,  to  hers,"  added  a  second 
courtier,  seriously. 

"Nor  even  to  the  Prince  himself,"  drily 
put  in  a  third. 

"But  his  love  is  not  given  elsewhere," 
demurred  Lord  Marienne. 

"Not    to    our    knowledge,    'tis    true,    but 


The  Magic  of  a  Song  25 

Francis  of  Angouleme  is  not  one  to  be  a 
puppet  even  in  the  King's  hands,  either  in 
marriage  or  in  any  other  matter." 

"Permit  me  to  remark,  my  friend,"  said 
Lord  Marienne,  "that  my  Lord  D'Antaurier 
is  not  in  Paris,  and  that  the  crisis  is  at  hand 
when  he  is  defenseless.  It  would  appear  that 
this  has  not  happened  by  pure  accident. 
Those  qualities  which  made  the  Due  of 
Orleans  successful  still  exist  in  the  King  of 
France.  It  is  his  forethought  which  has 
robbed  the  Princess  and  my  Lord  D'Antaur- 
ier of  all  their  weapons. " 

'This  evening  will  decide  their  fate,  else  I 
much  mistake,"  returned  his  comrade  gravely. 

"Her  Highness,  the  Princess  Helene!" 

A  murmuring,  followed  by  silence,  marked 
the  announcement  of  the  page.  The  Princess 
entered  with  firm  and  stately  tread,  but  she 
kept  her  eyes  downcast. 

It  was  as  if  her  heart  was  too  heavy  with 
foreboding  even  for  the  outward  show  of 
pride  and  rank  which  was  usually  so  natural 
to  her.  Her  dignity,  however,  was  unim- 
paired, and  only  the  few  who  were  her  friends 
noted  that  her  head  was  held  less  high  than 
was  her  wont,  and  that  sadness  was  in  her 
countenance  instead  of  the  impassive  majesty 
which  had  set  her  apart  amongst  the  women 
of  the  court  as  though  she  had  been  a  queen 


26  At  the  King's  Pleasure 

upon  her  throne.  Not  that  the  Princess  was 
either  cold  or  haughty  in  a  disagreeable  sense. 
She  merely  held  herself  aloof  because  it  was 
her  natural  characteristic  so  to  do  and  because 
unconsciously  she  was  a  superior  woman. 
Had  she  but  known  it,  her  new  humility  only 
added  to  her  charm  and  beauty.  Tall,  slender 
and  willowy  as  she  was,  tonight  she  seemed  to 
sway  and  bend  with  the  grace  of  a  gentle 
flower,  buffeted  by  a  heavy  wind.  Her  face, 
pale  from  her  emotion  of  the  tedious  day,  was 
smooth  and  pure  as  polished  marble  untinged 
with  any  shade  of  coloring.  Her  eyes,  dreamy 
with  new  though tfulness,  were  deep  in  hue  as 
fresh-blown  violets;  and  crowned  by  all,  her 
beauty  was  enhanced  by  the  heavy  coil  of 
golden  hair,  her  inheritance  from  her  English 
mother,  which  she  wore  so  high  that  her 
glorious  height  was  only  made  more  admirable. 
The  Lady  Marguerite's  charms  were  not  to 
be  denied  but  because  she  lacked  the  dignity 
of  bearing  which  Princess  Helene's  height  im- 
parted to  her  she  was  not  termed  as  "hand- 
some" a  lady  in  the  court  of  France.  She  was, 
however,  a  fitting  complement  of  the  lady  she 
served  as  maid -of -honor.  Darker  in  coloring; 
her  hair  a  mixture  of  brown  and  gold,  her  eyes 
a  clear,  soft  grey,  and  her  skin  a  darker  shade 
than  the  Princess's  cold  white,  the  added  pink 
of  her  cheeks  made  her  alluring  to  look  upon, 


The  Magic  of  a  Song  27 

while  her  gay,  vivacious  manner  spelled  her  a 
very  witch  for  charm  and  daintiness. 

Tonight,  as  Marguerite  had  dictated,  the 
Princess  was  clothed  entirely  in  white,  her 
only  jewels  a  collar  of  pearls.  A  dainty  shawl 
half-concealed  the  gleaming  shoulders  and 
throat.  The  sleeves  of  her  dress  hung  long 
and  flowing.  In  her  hair  was  a  single  full- 
blown red  rose.  As  she  advanced  and  greeted 
her  courtiers  she  glanced  shyly  around  as 
if  in  search  of  someone,  while  to  the  astute 
observer  her  attitude  betrayed  a  certain  hesi- 
tancy or  expectancy.  She  was  followed  by 
pages  and  two  maids-of-honor.  Suddenly  her 
glance  fell  upon  Marguerite,  and  her  quick 
smile  summoned  the  girl  to  her  side.  To- 
gether they  approached  DeChatton  and  M. 
Beaumon. 

"Monsieur  Beaumon!"  the  Princess  called 
in  gay  command,  "I  would  have  you  here 
beside  me  that  I  may  present  my  friend, 
Mademoiselle  Montarson.  Methinks  the  very 
name  will  commend  her  to  you,  my  lord." 

M.  Beaumon  without  a  moment's  hesitancy 
bent  over  Marguerite 's  hand  as  he  would  over 
that  of  any  new  acquaintance  at  court. 

"Mademoiselle  Montarson  has  already 
found  a  place  within  my  heart  by  some  words 
exchanged  before  your  entrance,  Princess,  and 
we  have  been  comparing  items  of  news. " 


28  At  the  King's  Pleasure 

"Ah,  and  have  you  then  news  for  any  other, 
my  lord?"  she  returned  significantly. 

"I  have  no  word,  Your  Highness,"  M. 
Beaumon  replied  in  a  low  voice.  "My  lord 
has  not  yet  returned  to  Paris.  Today  I  sent 
messengers  into  the  surrounding  provinces, 
and  should  fortune  favor  us  he  will  ride  in  all 
haste  to  Paris  if  he  receives  my  summons. 
Rest  in  peace,  Princess,  good  fortune  will  yet 
be  with  us. " 

"Not  yet  returned?"  repeated  the  Princess 
slowly  and  disappointedly.  "I  do  not  under- 
stand. I  cannot  see.  Messages  have  been 
in  pursuit  of  him  for  days.  Why  does  he  not 
receive  them?  Some  danger  has  befallen  him, 
or  else  my  summons  means  nothing  to  him  as 
I  had  supposed.  Oh,  Monsieur,  why  does  he 
not  come  to  me  when  I  need  him  so?" 

Many  courtiers  turned,  attracted  by  her 
tone  though  they  had  not  heard  her  wrords. 
Marguerite  quickly  shielded  her  from  their 
gaze,  and  she  placed  her  hand  soothingly  upon 
Helene's  arm.  The  Princess  had  covered  her 
eyes  with  her  hand,  but  now  at  the  girl's 
gentle  touch  she  raised  her  head  defiantly  and 
laughed  into  her  friends '  faces. 

"Why,  my  lords,  what  gravity  is  this  I  see 
when  tonight  all  should  be  merriment  and 
good  cheer?"  With  these  mocking  words  she 
moved  slowly  toward  the  window  and  there, 


The  Magic  of  a  Song  29 

unobserved,  brushed  away  her  tears.  Her 
ruse  deceived  all  beholders.  Only  her  three 
friends  knew  the  anguish  in  her  heart. 

"His  Majesty,  the  King!" 

A  blush,  vivid  and  painful,  swept  over 
Helene's  countenance,  but  she  did  not  move 
from  her  position  at  the  window  while  the  King 
entered  and  took  his  place  upon  the  dais. 
Hardly  had  the  bustle  following  his  arrival 
subsided  when  an  officer  of  the  guard  hurried 
into  the  room,  advanced  to  the  throne,  and 
knelt  before  King  Louis.  His  evident  eager- 
ness and  haste  aroused  great  interest.  This 
did  not  escape  the  King's  keen  observation, 
and  he  leaned  forward  anxiously,  as  he  cried: 

"Rise,  my  lord — your  message?" 

;'Your  Majesty,"  exclaimed  the  officer 
loudly,  "I  come  to  announce  that  my  Lord 
D '  Antaurier  has  entered  Paris  and  will  present 
himself  at  the  palace  this  evening. " 

Nothing  could  have  been  more  astounding 
to  all  hearers,  in  view  of  the  day's  conversa- 
tions. The  King  arose  in  his  surprise,  and 
forgot  that  by  his  manner  all  could  read  his 
secret. 

"My  Lord  D' Antaurier!  Here!  My  lord 
returned  tonight — and  here  at  the  palace!" 

His  glance  sought  out  the  Princess  where 
she  leaned  forward,  her  face  tense  with  feeling. 
A  moment  they  gazed  at  each  other  half 


30  At  the  King's  Pleasure 

fearfully,  while  all  courtiers  watched  the 
little  scene.  The  King's  words  had  betrayed 
a  special  significance.  His  glance  seemingly 
accused  her.  DeChatton  grasped  M.  Beau- 
mon's  arm. 

"He  comes  inopportunely,"  he  whispered. 

"Hush,"  returned  the  other,  exultingly, 
"feitferv!" 

DeChatton  followed  his  gaze  toward  a  page 
who  was  advancing  to  the  throne. 

"My  Lord  D'Antaurier!" 

The  Princess  wheeled  abruptly  to  face  the 
entrance  and  her  hand  which  had  been  raised 
to  her  bosom  dropped  to  her  side. 

Clad  in  riding  attire  and  carrying  his  long- 
plumed  hat  in  his  hand,  Lord  D'Antaurier 
stood  in  the  doorway. 

At  the  announcement  a  murmuring  had 
swept  over  the  assembly,  numbering  now  one 
hundred  persons.  The  King,  taken  unaware, 
started  to  resume  his  seat,  then  did  not.  Now 
he  stood  staring  almost  fearfully  at  the  noble- 
man whose  coming  he  did  not  desire. 

But  the  nobleman's  gaze  did  not  rest  on 
his  sovereign  to  whom  he  had  in  all  appearance 
come  to  pay  his  respects,  and  to  report  upon 
the  mission  from  which  he  had  just  returned. 
Instead  he  looked  into  a  pair  of  tender  blue 
eyes  fixed  pleadingly  upon  him,  and  as  his 
hand  touched  the  missive  in  his  waistcoat 


The  Magic  of  a  Song  31 

which  had  brought  him  hot-haste  from  a  pro- 
vince six  leagues  away,  there  crept  into  his 
mind  a  beautiful  hope.  He  little  dreamed 
that  his  eyes  mirrored  the  love  in  his  heart, 
and  that,  \vith  a  woman's  intuition,  the 
Princess  had  read  and  rejoiced.  It  was  only 
a  moment  that  they  spoke  thus  silently,  for 
D'Antaurier  was  obliged  to  approach  the 
throne  to  pay  his  allegiance.  Reluctantly, 
therefore,  he  hurried  on  and  saluted  the  King. 

"You  return  in  good  time,  my  Lord 
D'Antaurier,"  said  the  King  quietly. 

"Yea,  Sire,  and  in  good  fortune  also," 
returned  the  noble  evenly. 

"You  succeeded  then?"  cried  the  King 
joyfully. 

"Beyond  my  wildest  hopes,  Sire." 

"I  congratulate  you." 

"Nay,  Sire,  rather  congratulate  my  luck," 
corrected  the  noble  laughingly,  and  the  King 
smiled. 

"I  shall  desire  to  hear  more  of  this  later." 
The  King  bowed,  and  D'Antaurier,  consider- 
ing himself  dismissed,  turned  to  join  the  other 
courtiers. 

As  he  greeted  his  fellow-nobles  by  cordial 
handshakes,  passing  quickly  from  one  to 
another  with  a  merry  word,  many  glanced 
after  him  in  admiration  and  friendship,  and 
more  than  one  admitted  that  he  was  worthy 


32  At  the  King's  Pleasure 

of  the  attention  of  even  a  princess  of  the 
blood  royal.  His  fine  physique,  and  clean 
cut  face,  his  dashing,  smiling  manner,  tinged 
with  the  elusive  reserve  which  marked  unusual 
strength  of  character,  all  proclaimed  him  a 
man  of  men;  even  as  the  Princess  Helene  was 
a  woman  above  others  in  attributes  as  well  as 
rank. 

It  was  not  strange  that  he  should  have 
loved  the  Princess  and  that  she  should  have 
surrendered  her  heart  to  him,  if  it  is  indeed 
true  as  is  widely  said  that  one  is  attracted  to 
one's  opposite.  Lord  D'Antaurier  was  as 
dark  as  the  Princess  was  blonde.  His  olive 
skin  glowed  with  the  health  and  vigor  of  his 
soldier's  life,  and  his  eyes,  large  and  full-set, 
gleamed  with  spirit  and  laughter  in  their  dark 
brown  depths.  Moreover,  tall  though  she 
was,  he  towered  full  many  inches  above  her 
golden  head  in  a  strength  and  protective 
power  most  satisfying  to  them  both. 

Critically  the  Princess  watched  his  approach, 
and  as  she  noted  these  same  qualities  which 
pleased  all  beholders,  she  felt  a  new  thrill  of 
pride  and  pleasure  in  his  manly  beauty  and 
strength.  Every  smallest  detail  of  his  car- 
riage— the  proud,  imperious  tilt  of  his  shapely 
head,  the  steady,  graceful  stride,  the  military 
squareness  of  his  shoulders — was  imprinted 
in  her  mind.  The  charm  and  fitness  of  his 


The  Magic  of  a  Song  33 

garb,  also,  did  not  escape  her,  and  she  had  time 
only  to  wonder  how  he  had  managed  to  array 
himself  in  such  immaculate  riding  attire  after 
his  long  journey  before  he  was  bowing  to 
Marguerite,  even  as  he  bent  over  and  kissed 
her  own  hand. 

"My  lord,"  she  faltered,  "you  return  more 
speedily  than  we  had  thought." 

He  glanced  at  her  questioningly.  "But  not 
too  speedily  I  trust, — for  His  Majesty's 
pleasure?" 

"Nay,"  she  answered,  gently,  "nor  for  that 
of  others  of  his  court,  mayhap." 

"Princess!"  he  cried  so  joyously  and  be- 
seechingly that  her  eyes  drooped  before  his. 

He  was  awakening  to  new  daring — her  dear 
message  beneath  his  waistcoat  gave  him 
courage — and  Marguerite,  seeing  their  mutual 
absorption,  turned  away  with  a  new  wistful- 
ness  in  her  heart. 

The  King,  grown  weary  of  the  lack  of  mirth, 
and  noting  the  interest  with  which  the  Prin- 
cess and  D'Antaurier  conversed,  moved  im- 
patiently in  his  chair,  and  then  remarked  drily : 

"  Methinks,  my  lords  and  ladies,  that  gaiety 
hangs  heavy  on  our  spirits  tonight.  Mayhap 
a  song  would  bring  us  cheer  and  merriment. 
My  Lady  Montarson,  wilt  thou  not  favor  us?  " 

Slowly  Marguerite  approached  the  throne, 
a  vague  sadness  in  her  face. 


34  At  the  King's  Pleausre 

"My  lady's  harp,  Monsieur,"  commanded 
the  King  of  an  officer  near  the  dais. 

The  latter  handed  her  the  instrument,  and 
Marguerite  seated  herself  at  the  foot  of  the 
throne. 

"Methinks,  Mademoiselle,"  the  King  ad- 
dressed her  kindly,  "that  you  are  not  in  mood 
for  joyous  song.  Nay?  Then  sing  to  us  of 
what  you  will. " 

Marguerite  smiled  at  the  King  and  touched 
the  harp-strings  caressingly.  Then  after  a 
moment  she  began  to  sing  in  low  tones  which 
grew  gradually  stronger  yet  never  harsh,  and 
all  the  company  hushed  to  listen,  so  wondrous 
sweet  was  it. 

"A  soldier  rode  through  the  darkening  night, 

And  made  his  way  through  perils  grim, 
But  all  the  while  his  heart  was  light, 

And  a  song  on  his  lips  voiced  the  song 

within. 
*I  dream  of  the  blue  of  a  lady's  eyes, 

Of  the  gold  in  her  hair  and  a  marble  skin, 
I  dream  of  lips  whose  red  I  prize, 

And  I  long  to  read  the  heart  she  hides. 
Ah,  I  dream  of  eyes  as  blue  and  fair 
As  the  gold  is  pure  in  her  golden  hair, 

And  I  dream  of  the  love  that  could  shine  in 

them 
For  the  man  of  men — somewhere! 


The  Magic  of  a  Song  35 

Ah,  would  that  her  eyes  were  blue  for  me, 
And  the  rose  in  her  hair  were  a  token  rare! 
Ah,  would  that  the  smile  which  glints  so  fair 

Were  token  of  love — for  me! 
That  the  red,  red  rose  in  her  hair  of  gold, 

That  the  rose  on  her  cheek  which  its  rival  is, 
That  the  smile  in  her  eyes  so  true  would  hold 

The  promise  of  love  for  me! 
But  what  care  I  if  her  eyes  be  blue, 

If  her  hair  be  gold,  and  her  lips  are  rose, 

And  what  care  I  if  she  fair  may  be, 
If  only  her  heart  is  true ! 

But  she  dwells  in  realms  I  cannot  reach, 
A  lady  high  in  court  of  kings, 

And   I — ?     A  soldier  I, 
Yet  love  may  live  in  the  meanest  things, 

And  I  can't  tear  out  my  heart — not  I! 
Ah,  would  that  I  were  a  noble  grand, 

Or  she  a  peasant  maid, 
For  then  I  'd  dare  to  seek  her  hand, 

And  with  love  find  love  repaid.' 

Not  yet  had  the  spell  of  the  Princess's 
greeting  fallen  away  from  Lord  D'Antaurier, 
and  now  at  Marguerite's  words  he  looked 
down  into  Helene's  face,  fascinated,  eager, 
beseeching,  and  she  in  her  turn  could  no 
longer  quiet  the  love  in  her  heart,  but  met  his 
gaze  with  a  strange  timidity.  Her  cape  had 
fallen  from  her  shoulders.  Gently  he  drew  it 


36  At  the  King's  Pleasure 

back  into  place,  trembling  at  the  touch  of  his 
hand  on  her  neck.  She  did  not  shrink  from 
his  nearness,  and  emboldened,  his  hand  slipped 
caressingly  to  her  wrist,  then  grasped  her 
fingers  eagerly.  The  next  moment  he  had 
raised  them  to  his  lips,  in  a  reverent  impulse. 
She  drew  her  hand  away  slowly,  and  stood 
with  averted  head,  but  she  did  not  rebuke 
him  by  word  or  glance. 

The  song  had  ended,  while  the  King's 
moody,  cynical  eyes  drank  in  the  little  tab- 
leau. He  smiled  grimly,  and  the  courtiers 
seeing  his  sneer,  followed  his  look,  then  ex- 
changed significant  glances.  M.  Beaumon 
touched  DeChatton  's  arm.  The  latter  nodded 
but  did  not  raise  his  eyes.  M.  Beaumon 
shrugged  his  shoulders,  and  lifted  his  hands 
in  gesture  of  resignation.  A  page,  clothed  in 
white,  appeared  in  the  doorway.  Instantly 
the  King  arose. 

"My  lords  and  ladies  of  the  court,  shall  we 
not  repair  to  the  dining  hall?  The  Lady 
Montarson  has  favored  us,  but  her  words  stir 
up  our  hearts  rather  than  enliven."  He 
smiled  sadly  upon  Marguerite.  "Mayhap  a 
foaming  glass  of  wine,  good  cheer,  and  dainty 
food  may  warm  our  mood  to  merriment  and 
mirth." 

With  his  attendants  he  led  the  way  toward 
the  banquet-room  as  he  spoke,  and  the  nobles 


The  Magic  of  a  Song  37 

quickly  sought  partners,  and  offered  their 
escort.  The  maids-of-honor  to  the  Princess 
approached  her  but  she  silently  signified  her 
wish  that  they  precede  her.  Gladly  they 
complied,  pleased  at  the  opportunity  to  con- 
verse freely  with  their  escorts.  Only  the 
Princess  and  my  Lord  D'Antaurier  remained 
in  the  room  as  M.  Beaumon  proffered  his  arm 
to  Marguerite.  In  the  doorway  the  girl 
paused  and  cast  a  saddened  glance  at  the  two 
silent,  tense  figures  beside  the  window. 

"Princess!"  The  word  was  fraught  with 
suppressed  feeling.  It  caressed;  and  the 
Princess,  startled,  looked  up  at  her  companion. 
Then  she  noted  the  deserted  room. 

"We  must  join  the  others  in  the  dining- 
hall, "  she  cried  hastily. 

"Surely  you  do  not  fear  to  be  alone  with 
me?"  he  questioned.  "I  know  my  eyes 
speak  my  madness,  that  my  face,  my  gestures, 
my  voice  betray  me,  even  though  I  dare  not 
speak  my  love.  The  song  that  Lady  Mar- 
guerite sang!  Princess,  such  am  I  tonight, 
such  have  I  been  for  many  a  day!" 

"My  lord,  you  are  mad!"  But  even  while 
pride  spoke,  the  Princess 's  eyes  were  soft  with 
emotion. 

"Mad?     Aye,  Princess,  mad  with  a  mad- 
ness which  can  never  be  cured.     I  love  you— 
gently  he  took  her  hand  in  his — "although  my 


38  At  the  King's  Pleasure 

rank  is  far  below  your  own ;  and  '  I  can 't  tear 
out  my  heart — not  I,'  for  through  all  my  days, 
through  all  my  journeys,  and  duties  and  trav- 
els, 

*  I  dream  of  the  blue  of  a  lady 's  eyes, 
Of  the  gold  in  her  hair  and  a  marble  skin, 
I  dream  of  lips  whose  red  I  prize, 

And  I  long  to  read  the  heart  she  hides. ' 

"Tonight,  last  night,  yea,  for  every  night 
that  I  have  been  away  on  mission  for  the 
King,  I  have  faced  all  dangers  and  perils  with 
the  picture  ever  before  me  of  a  woman  far 
above  me  in  rank,  but  with  a  heart  too  kind 
to  scorn  the  humble  follower  for  her  smile, 
and  I,  though  only  a  lord  in  all  this  realm  of 
nobles  born, 

*I  dream  of  eyes  as  blue  and  fair 
As  the  gold  is  pure  in  her  golden  hair, 

And  I  dream  of  the  love  that  could  shine  in 

them, 
For  the  man  of  men — somewhere. ' 

His  voice  faltered,  and  she  watched  him 
fascinated;  then  unsteadily,  gropingly,  she 
made  her  way  to  the  divan.  In  an  instant 
he  was  beside  her,  bending  to  try  to  read  her 
averted  face.  Then,  his  hand  resting  on  the 


The  Magic  of  a  Song  39 

divan  just  over  her  shoulders,  he  stooped 
and  reverently  kissed  the  flower  in  her  hair, 
and  the  Princess  covered  her  eyes  lest  he  read 
too  much  of  her  heart. 

"Ah,  would  that  her  eyes  were  blue  for  me, 
And  the  rose  in  her  hair  were  a  token  rare ! 
That  the  smile  in  her  eyes  so  true  would  hold, 

The  promise  of  love — for  me !" 

He  paused  and  waited,  but  she  gave  no 
sign,  and  he  set  his  lips  grimly  for  he  thought 
he  read  her  coldness. 

"But  what  care  I  if  she  fair  may  be, 
If  only  her  heart  be  true!" 

In  spite  of  the  forced  lightness  in  his  man- 
ner the  woman  read  the  deep  hurt  of  her 
apparent  shrinking,  and  it  caused  her  own  suf- 
fering to  surpass  his  own. 

"Helene!"  He  could  control  himself  no 
longer.  His  hand,  resting  behind  her  shoul- 
ders, caressed  her  tenderly. 

As  though  his  touch  had  awakened  her 
from  a  dream,  she  sprang  to  her  feet,  lifted  her 
head  proudly,  and  held  out  a  detaining  hand. 

"Monsieur,  Monsieur,  no  more,  I  beg  of 
you!  Remember,  I  am  the  Princess,  and 
you — and  you — !"  she  faltered. 


40  At  the  King's  Pleasure 

He  straightened,  and  with  a  gesture  of 
obedience  which  hurt  her  more  than  she 
would  have  admitted,  he  quoted  with  a  jaunti- 
ness  which  did  not  deceive  her: 

'But  she  dwells  in  realms  I  cannot  reach, 
A  lady  high  in  court  of  kings,  and  I— 

He  shrugged  his  shoulders  mockingly—  "A 
poor  devil  of  a  noble  who  lost  his  head !  Your 
pardon,  Princess.  Once  I  dreamed  that  you 
were  not  cold  and  proud  and  haughty,  save 
as  all  true  women  should  be  for  self-esteem. 
I  dreamed  that  yours  was  one  of  those  rare, 
fine  natures  that  would  yield  to  better  impulses 
when  true  love  should  speak.  However,  my 
dream  is  past — and — again  your  pardon,  Prin- 
cess," he  bowed  coldly — "I  bid  you  a  cour- 
teous farewell." 

He  turned  as  though  to  leave  the  room. 
The  Princess  hesitated  only  an  instant.  Her 
words  to  Marguerite  rang  in  her  ears,  and  at 
last  she  knew  that  what  her  friend  had  said 
was  true — that  none  could  take  the  place  of 
this  nobleman  beside  her,  however  long  might 
be  her  waiting. 

"Monsieur — my  lord!"  Her  voice  trem- 
bled strangely.  She  placed  her  hand,  quiver- 
ing with  excitement  and  emotion,  on  a  nearby 
chair  to  steady  herself.  He  turned  quickly 


The  Magic  of  a  Song  41 

at  her  call  and  the  expression  of  pain  in  his 
face  almost  completed  her  undoing.  "My 
lord  surely  will  not  leave  me  to  go  in  to 
dinner  alone?  The  nobles — the  ladies — the 
King — what  would  they  think  and  say?" 

Instantly  he  came  to  her  side,  and  bowed 
low  before  her  as  he  proffered  his  arm.  "Your 
pardon,  Princess,  will  you  permit  me?" 

She  quivered  beneath  the  scorn  in  his  tone, 
her  eyes  closed  as  if  to  shut  out  the  unhappy 
picture  he  presented  to  her  sensitive  discern- 
ment. Her  hand,  which  had  been  raised  to 
her  heart,  fell  to  her  side. 

"Your  scorn — Monsieur — is  quite  evi- 
dent!" she  said,  slowly  and  proudly. 

A  metallic  ring  upon  the  marble  floor  beside 
them  interrupted  whatever  else  she  would 
have  said.  Both  started,  and  D'Antaurier 
stooped  quickly.  A  moment  later  he  glanced 
at  the  trinket  which  he  had  picked  up. 

"Give  it  me,  my  lord—  "  cried  the  Princess 
in  terror,  "immediately,  Monsieur!" 

But  instead  D'Antaurier  knelt  before  her 
and  seized  her  hand. 

"Princess,  Princess  Helene!"  [he  cried, 
joyously. 

The  next  instant  he  had  leapt  to  his  feet 
and  held  her  close  in  his  arms,  and  she  yielded 
herself  willingly  at  last  to  his  embrace. 

"Thou  wearest  my  picture  near  thy  heart— 


42  At  the  King's  Pleasure 

he  exulted,  "and  now  I  know!  My  dream 
is  not  past,  Helene.  Nay,  it  has  just  begun. 
And  now  I  dare — I  dare — not  only  to  speak 
my  love  but  to  claim  the  rose — to  claim  the 
rose!  Princess,  the  rose!  My  rose!" 

She  gloried  in  the  triumph  of  his  tone,  and 
she  put  her  hand  to  the  rose  in  her  hair,  but 
he,  with  a  laugh  which  told  the  depth  of  joy 
in  his  heart,  stooped  and  kissed  the  rose  of  her 
trembling  lips. 

"A  messenger  to  see  Her  Highness,  the 
Princess  Helene. " 

At  the  announcement  the  Princess  started 
guiltily,  and  her  cheeks  were  crimson  as  she 
turned  to  face  the  soldier  just  entering. 
Lord  D'Antaurier  quickly  moved  away  to 
leave  her  free  to  await  the  messenger. 

The  soldier  knelt  reverently  before  her  but 
did  not  lift  the  hood  which  concealed  his  face. 
Speaking  no  word,  he  handed  her  a  parchment. 
The  Princess  smiled  her  thanks  even  while 
she  regarded  the  man  curiously.  As  she 
broke  the  seal  she  still  studied  him,  then, 
remembering  that  while  she  could  not  see  his 
emotions,  hers  were  visible  to  him  during  her 
reading,  she  addressed  him  gently: 

"If  Monsieur  will  await  my  answer  in  the 
ante-room. " 

Immediately  the  soldier  arose  and,  with  a 
bow  to  her,  followed  the  page  from  the  room. 


The  Magic  of  a  Song  43 

Dreamily  D'Antaurier  watched  Helene's  face 
as  she  read,  and  he  rejoiced  to  behold  its  calm 
happiness.  Then  suddenly  he  saw  her  lips  part 
in  fear;  her  whole  countenance  express  anxiety . 
With  a  despairing  cry  she  went  to  him. 

"Monsieur — my  lord — our  dream  is  over!" 

"Princess!" 

"Listen,  my  lord,  this  comes  from  one  of 
my  most  trusted  friends,  one  who  reports  to 
me  all  matters  of  grande  importance,  and  all 
dangers.  This  is  his  warning:  'Le  Capitaine 
today  sends  a  message  to  the  King.  He  has 
in  his  possession  documents  which  the  King 
values — which  would  mean  riot  and  bloodshed 
should  Le  Capitaine  use  them.  The  latter  ac- 
cordingly demands  that  His  Majesty  shall 
command  you,  the  Princess  Helene,  and  the 
Comte  of  Angouleme  to  wed.  The  King's 
answer  must  be  given  within  three  days.  If 
you  and  my  lord—  She  could  read  no 

more,  but  the  noble  took  up  the  sentence. 

"If  you  and  my  Lord — D'Antaurier,"  he 
echoed,  "would  wed,  you  must  do  so  at  once," 
he  finished.  "Well,  Princess,  and  that  is  not 
hard.  It  is  for  Your  Highness  to  say.  Yours 
is  the  choice.  Wilt  marry  me,  Helene?" 

"How  can  we  wed.  The  King  cannot 
consent.  He  dare  not!"  she  cried  in  anguish. 
"Ah,  my  lord,  it  is  too  late — too  late!  Your 
desire — my  dream — our  love— 


44  At  the  King's  Pleasure 

"Hush,  sweetheart,  thou  shalt  not  say  it, 
for  there  is  a  way.  Listen,  dear,  I  had  not 
dared  to  tell  thee  this  before.  Tonight  when 
I  found  thy  message  awaiting  me  six  leagues 
away  a  great  hope  sprang  up  within  my 
heart.  I  knew  that  thou  didst  fear  for  my 
safety  and  also  that  in  thy  need  thou  didst 
turn  to  me  for  aid.  I  came  to  thee  as  fast 
as  horse  could  bring  me,  hoping,  praying, 
glorying  in  the  dream  thy  dear  message 
brought.  And  I  gloried  the  more  for  I  had 
found  the  means  to  save  thee  if  thou  wouldst 
grant  me  that  great  privilege.  Long  ago  when 
I  returned  from  Toulouse  successful  in  the 
mission  upon  which  His  Majesty  had  sent  me, 
he  bade  me  choose  my  reward  for  my  service 
— which  he  looked  upon  as  worthy — and  I 
dared  to  ask  his  consent  to  our  marriage, 
Helene,  provided  I  should  win  thy  love  and 
favorable  answer.  This  consent  he  gave  to 
me  in  writing,  and  that  precious  parchment 
now  is  in  the  possession  of  my  cousin,  the 
Lady  LeRoi,  of  whom  thou  hast  heard. " 

"I  know,"  interrupted  the  Princess.  "It 
was  from  her  I  obtained  this  locket  containing 
thy  picture." 

"Ah,  Helene,  how  thou  hast  played  with 
me,  when  all  the  while  thou  didst  care !  Thou 
hast  been  a  cruel  lady,  but  now — thou  dost 
atone  most  gloriously!  And  as  for  this 


The  Magic  of  a  Song  45 

consent  which  means  so  much  to  us,  my 
cousin  keeps  it  for  me  till  I  call  for  it.  I 
could  not  keep  it  myself.  There  are  spies  and 
enemies  ever  dogging  my  steps.  I  could  not 
take  it  with  me  wherever  I  went  for  I  encounter 
too  many  dangers,  and  if  death  had  come  to 
me  and  it  had  been  found  upon  me,  it  might 
have  imperiled  the  King  or  thee,  dear  heart. " 

"Monsieur — my  lord!"  she  cried  gladly, 
so  gladly  that  he  kissed  her,  "but  how  will 
this  avail  us?  What  can  we  do?" 

"Then  thou  art  not  angry  at  my  temerity 
in  thus  asking  the  King's  consent?" 

"Nay,  nay,  I  love  thee!" 

"And  thou  wilt  come  with  me  to  be  wed  by 
some  humble  priest?  Thou  wilt  steal  away 
and  join  me?  Thou  wilt  trust  me?" 

'Yea,  yea,  with  my  life,  my  soul,  my 
honor!  Only  take  me  with  thee,  for  where 
thou  art  there  is  my  happiness.  Do  not  let 
them  part  us.  I  cannot  wed  the  Prince." 

"My  love — my  life — my  dream  come  true! 
My  rose  of  hope  and  promise!"  he  said, 
brokenly.  A  moment  of  reverie  and  he  raised 
his  head  in  decision.  "Ah,  would  that  Jean 
were  here  to  take  a  message  to  Lady  LeRoi! 
We  must  act  quickly,  or  not  at  all.  Three 
days!" 

The  soldier  at  his  first  words  had  entered 
the  room,  and  now  he  came  to  the  noble's 


46  At  the  King's  Pleasure 

elbow,  threw  back  his  hood,  and  spoke  in  a 
far  different  tone  than  before: 

"You  have  a  message  for  Lady  LeRoi,  my 
lord?" 

"Jean." 

The  soldier  bowed,  laughing  at  his  sur- 
prise. "Even  I,  my  Lord  D ' Antaurier. " 

"This  is  indeed  rare  fortune.  Pray  take 
this  message  to  my  cousin,  that  she  meet  me 
three  miles  beyond  the  causeway — you  know 
the  place,  Jean — at  ten  tomorrow  night,  and 
that  she  bring  the  paper  which  I  entrusted  to 
her  care,  and  also,  Jean,  the  documents  which 
she  guards  for — the  highest  person — you  know 
whom,  Jean.  She  will  understand. " 

'Yea,  my  lord.  Shall  she  need  attendants, 
think  you?" 

"Nay,  there  is  no  danger,  I  believe,  but  do 
you  accompany  her,  rather  than  some  other. 
I  should  feel  easier. " 

"Very  well,  my  lord.  Tomorrow  night, 
then,  at  ten,  or  thereabout,  three  miles  beyond 
the  causeway.  My  Lady  LeRoi  and  I  will  be 
there." 

D' Antaurier  held  out  his  hand.  To  the 
Princess 's  surprise  this  nobleman  shook  hands 
with  a  servant.  As  Jean,  with  a  low  bow  to 
Helene,  left  the  room,  the  noble  turned  to 
her,  saying: 

"Princess,  I  have  a  plan  which  will  mean 


The  Magic  of  a  Song  47 

much  for  us.  Lady  LeRoi  has  in  her  posses- 
sion papers  which  the  King  believes  to  have 
gone  astray  and  which  he  fears  are  in  the 
hands  of  his  enemies.  She  had  been  awaiting 
an  opportunity  to  send  them  to  those  to  whom 
they  are  addressed.  But  now  when  we  are 
wed  we  will  return  with  them  to  the  King, 
and  perchance  his  pleasure  in  their  recovery 
will  grant  us  pardon  for  our  disobedience. 

"But  come,  dinner  has  long  been  served. 
I  will  dine  with  thee,  Helene,  and  then  I  must 
go  to  make  ready  for  my  journey  tomorrow, 
and  for  the  furtherance  of  our  plan.  I  shall 
not  come  to  the  palace  again,  but  through 
Jean  or  M.  Beaumon  will  get  thee  word  when 
and  where  to  meet  me,  and  then,  Princess, 
and  then— 

"I  will  come,  even  across  the  world,"  she 
answered  bravely. 


CHAPTER  III 
The  Wandering  Jester 

At  the  entrance  of  the  banquet  hall  a 
strange  and  wondrous  figure  paused.  Yet  in 
these  days  of  varied  pleasures  the  sight  was 
not  unusual,  nay,  rather,  it  introduced  the 
incident  of  mirth  and  amusement.  The  guards 
of  His  Majesty's  service  looked  upon  the 
jester  with  undisguised  interest  for  he  was 
one  unknown  to  them  and  therefore  promised 
novelty.  His  cap  and  bells  were  odd  indeed 
even  for  that  style  of  oddity,  and  the  latter 
jingled  with  his  every  move  in  a  persistent 
and  ludicrous  manner.  A  cap  of  yellow; 
bells  of  many  hues;  a  crimson  jacket,  short 
and  closely  fitted;  trousers  of  delicate  blue, 
and  shoes — or  rather  boots,  for  they  were 
long,  leathern  affairs  which  covered  the  bottom 
of  his  trouser  legs — of  brilliant  pink;  thus  was 
the  stranger  arrayed  who  demanded  admission 
to  the  court  assemblage.  And  he  did  not  ask 
in  vain,  for  this  form  of  entertainment  was 
pleasing  to  His  Majesty  who,  however,  did 
not  care  to  have  a  jester  of  the  court,  as  did 
many  kings. 

48 


The  Wandering  Jester  49 

"Wherefore  this  mad  show  of  hoggish 
greed!"  was  his  first  remark  to  those  who 
guarded  the  door,  "Pray  let  me  enter  and 
admonish  these  mistaken  mortals  lest  they 
eat  and  afterward  repent.  For  verily  I  do 
believe  that  I  can  do  them  service  which  will 
save  them  from  the  practise  of  the  court 
physician,  and  what  other  does  this  mean  but 
that  I  save  their  useless,  but  personally  pre- 
cious, lives?" 

The  guardsmen  grinned;  but  one  made 
sturdy  answer,  "  Ma  /oi,  what  have  we  here 
who  claims  to  be  able  to  cheat  death  himself! 
His  modesty  is  touching,  and  must  needs  be 
rewarded;  yet  first  I  would  know  in  what 
manner  he  would  admonish  the  assembly  for 
its  welfare?" 

"First  and  foremost,  then,  since  you  would 
learn  at  the  foot  of  f  ools  "  —deftly  the  jester 
raised  his  foot  and  smartly  touched  the 
guardsman  in  the  hip  so  that  he  bent  in  self- 
defense,  which  caused  his  comrades  to  laugh 
uproariously — "I  shall  suggest  that  the  way- 
farer who  brings  them  cheer  be  given,  in  his 
turn,  a  share  of  theirs;  for  thus  in  robbing 
them  of  temporary  pleasure  so  also  do  I  save 
them  from  prolonged  pangs  of  gluttony. 
And  now  that  you  have  satisfied  your  curiosity, 
pray  let  me  pass. " 

"Ho,  ho!"  laughed  one,  "he  fears  to  tell  us 


50  At  the  King's  Pleasure 

more  of  his  great  secrets  lest  we  also  play  the 
fool  and  lose  for  him  his  occupation."  In 
his  glee  the  speaker  pushed  his  comrade  and 
shouted  at  his  own  brilliancy. 

But  the  jester  only  eyed  him  sadly,  and 
quoth  gravely,  "Nay,  do  not  thus  delude 
thyself  with  vain  hope  of  greatness,  for  thou 
wilt  always  play  the  fool  without  the  trying; 
but  alas  'tis  not  the  part  which  needeth  wit, 
being  of  that  common  kind  which  we  encounter 
upon  all  sides,  and  which  by  its  possessor  is 
not  recognized." 

'Twas  now  the  others '  turn  to  laugh  at  their 
comrade's  keen  discomfiture  and  the  latter 
muttered  sullenly,  "Entrez,  O  fool,  His  Ma- 
jesty will  rejoice  at  thy  coming!  None  who 
is  thy  equal  in  cleverness  has  been  seen  at 
court  for  many  a  day,  and  now  I  speak  of 
lords  of  the  realm  as  well  as  those  who  wear 
thy  motley  colors. " 

The  grotesque  figure  glided  swiftly  across 
the  marble  floor,  and  many  nobles  smiled 
upon  him  as  he  passed ;  but  the  first  knowledge 
which  the  King  had  of  his  presence  was  the 
weird  jingle  of  bells  above  his  head.  Startled, 
His  Majesty  turned,  only  to  encounter  the 
bold  gaze  of  most  impudent  eyes. 

"How  now,  sirrah!"  he  roared  in  pretended 
anger,  "is  this  the  way  you  greet  your  King 
and  master?" 


The  Wandering  Jester  51 

The  jester  pursed  his  lips  thoughtfully,  and 
cocked  his  head  mockingly.  "Master,  say 
you,  O  strange  one?"  he  queried  slowly. 
"How  now!  There  is  only  one  who  is  my 
master,  and  he  the  devil.  Hast  thou  met 
him?"  He  leaned  eagerly  toward  him.  "Or 
mayhap  you  are  he,  here  in  a  new  disguise!" 

The  King  drew  his  brows  to  scowl  upon 
the  fellow,  but  instead  his  lips  relaxed,  and 
he  smiled  upon  him.  "Verily,  you  are  a  new 
arrangement!"  he  exclaimed  as  he  viewed 
his  costume.  "Well,  you  are  welcome,  so 
long  as  you  guard  your  impudence. " 

"Sire,  I  will  guard  you  with  my  life!" 
cried  the  jester  fervently,  and  the  King  joined 
heartily  in  the  laugh  against  himself. 

After  a  moment  the  fool  drew  apart  from 
the  King  and  viewed  those  among  the  nobles, 
and  presently  his  eyes  lighted  and  he  made 
his  graceful  way  to  Lord  D'Antaurier.  So 
smoothly  and  quietly  did  he  move  that  neither 
the  nobleman  nor  the  Princess  who  sat  beside 
him  knew  of  his  presence.  Indeed,  D  'Antaur- 
ier's  eyes  were  fastened  upon  Helene,  nor  did 
he  realize  how  he  drank  in  her  beauty,  so 
absorbed  was  he  in  his  happiness.  Then  the 
mocking  bells  chimed  beside  him,  and  the 
jester  cried  gleefully: 

"My  lord!  My  lord!  Pray  stare  not  so 
upon  the  lady,  for  she  is  not  a  ghost  but  as 


52  At  the  King's  Pleasure 

dainty  a  piece  of  flesh  and  blood  as  ever  mine 
eyes  have  viewed. " 

The  courtiers  faced  him  laughingly  and 
Helene's  cheeks  grew  crimson  beneath  their 
significant  gaze. 

"That,  also,  is  my  opinion,  fool, "  returned 
the  nobleman,  readily.  "Hence  I  look  at 
her,  and  shall  continue  in  my  study,  notwith- 
standing that  thereby  I  place  myself  upon  a 
level  with  a  fool  in  his  opinion.  For  once  his 
judgment  gives  him  credit  of  a  wiser  head 
than  one  would  dream  was  beneath  so  weird  a 
covering. " 

"  Bravo,  my  lord ! "  cried  the  King.  "Verily, 
this  fool  must  look  to  his  laurels  if  he  means 
to  spar  with  you ! " 

The  jester  merely  shrugged,  then  murmured 
plaintively,  "I  pray  thee,  gentlemen,  to  spare 
the  lady's  blushes.  'Tis  unfair  advantage  to 
war  upon  a  woman." 

As  he  moved  away,  Lord  D'Antaurier 
looked  after  him  wonderingly,  and  then  the 
jester  faced  him,  and  seeing  his  puzzled 
expression,  eyed  him  boldly,  defiantly,  and 
at  last  shook  his  baton  mockingly,  and  swung 
on  his  heels. 

"I  have  seen  this  man  somewhere, "  D 'An- 
taurier  said  in  a  low  tone  to  Helene.  "I 
know  that  I  have  looked  into  those  same 
brazen  eyes  and  I  believe  that  he,  too,  recog- 
nized me.' 


The  Wandering  Jester  53 

"He  stood  just  outside  the  door  of  the 
throne-room  as  we  passed  to  this  dining- 
hall, "  she  made  answer.  "I  saw  him  in  the 
shadow. " 

A  strange  light  came  into  the  noble's  face. 
"I  wonder—  '  he  began,  then  paused  for  he 
feared  to  frighten  her,  but  Helene  had  guessed 
his  thought. 

"If  he  heard  us?"  she  questioned.  "It 
would  not  be  improbable.  He  whom  thou 
callest  Jean  came  to  thee  because  he  heard 
thy  wish. " 

"Let  us  not  believe  this,"  returned  D'An- 
taurier  quietly,  "for  unless  he  is  a  spy  of  His 
Majesty's,  there  is  nothing  to  fear." 

"Nevertheless,  it  were  well  to  take  pre- 
cautions," she  advised. 

The  noble  nodded  his  acquiescence. 

The  King  arose  and  gave  the  signal  for  the 
return  to  the  throne-room,  but  as  Helene  also 
arose  he  addressed  her  in  a  tone  so  distinct  and 
cold  that  all  watched  him  with  startled  eyes. 

"I  pray  that  Your  Highness  will  not  hurry. 
I  am  aware  that  you  did  not  begin  dinner  with 
the  rest,  and  I  would  not  have  you  leave 
before  you  have  ended.  You,  also,  my  Lord 
D'Antaurier,  I  beg  that  you  finish  your 
repast. " 

Helene  blushed  with  wounded  pride.  "Ac- 
cept my  thanks,  Sire."  she  responded  icily. 


54  At  the  King's  Pleasure 

"I  was  detained  by  a  messenger.  Naturally 
my  escort,  the  Lord  D'Antaurier,  awaited  my 
leisure. " 

The  King  merely  bowed,  but  behind  the 
Princess's  chair  there  sounded  a  low,  deriding 
laugh.  The  jester  whirled  his  baton  gaily, 
then  hurried  after  the  King. 

"Have  a  care,  Sirrah,"  cried  King  Louis: 
"twice  have  you  played  a  jest  upon  the 
Princess  Helene,  and  a  third  will  cost  you 
dear.  Verily,  you  shall  be  hung  up  by  your 
heels." 

"So  that  it  be  not  by  my  neck  I  care  not, 
O  strange  one.  But  tell  me,  does  she  then 
know  the  devil  that  you  defend  her  thusly?" 

The  King  eyed  him  in  amazement  at  his 
daring.  "By  my  faith!"  he  exclaimed,  "I 
wonder  if  perchance  you  are  not  near  the 
truth,  for  it  would  seem  that  if  things  con- 
tinue as  they  now  tend,  there  will  indeed  be 
the  devil  to  pay ! " 

As  M.  Beaumon  passed  Lord  D ' Antaurier  's 
chair  the  latter  quietly  pulled  his  sleeve. 
Instantly  M.  Beaumon  made  an  awkward 
movement  with  his  arm  which  caused  Mar- 
guerite's fan  to  fall  from  her  grasp.  With 
polite  apologies  he  stooped  to  recover  it,  and 
D'Antaurier,  understanding  the  ruse,  bent 
and  whispered  cautiously: 

"Return  to  us  in  ten  minutes.' 


The  Wandering  Jester  55 

"Very  well,  my  lord,"  was  M.  Beaumon's 
whispered  response,  as  he  restored  Marguerite's 
fan. 

Nevertheless  it  was  fully  half  an  hour  after 
the  King  had  given  the  signal  for  the  return 
to  the  throne-room  that  it  was  observed  that 
the  Princess  and  Lord  D'Antaurier  were  still 
absent  from  the  assembly. 

It  was  with  a  grim  smile  that  the  King 
noted  their  protracted  absence,  and  even  the 
jester's  countless  efforts  failed  to  rouse  him 
from  his  gloomy  reverie.  Then  at  last  came 
welcome  interruption  to  his  unhappy  thoughts. 
The  page  announced  the  arrival  of  the  Prince, 
Francis,  Comte  of  Angouleme.  Eagerly  the 
King  awaited  his  coming,  for  deep  in  his  stern 
heart  he  knew  that  he  loved  this  cousin,  who 
represented  in  his  strong,  youthful  appearance 
all  manliness  and  gallantry  of  a  prince  of  men. 
Proudly  he  noted  the  interest  which  his 
cousin's  approach  had  excited,  and  he  smiled 
with  pleasure  when  at  last  the  Prince  crossed 
the  threshold  and  stood  bowing  graciously 
to  welcoming  courtiers.  The  King  was  justly 
proud  of  his  youthful  cousin.  Like  the 
Princess  Helene's,  Francis  of  Angouleme's 
mother  had  been  of  English  extraction,  and 
he  had  inherited  from  her  people  his  medium 
coloring  and  fine  physique,  which  set  him 
apart  in  a  court  where  birth  was  so  truly 


56  At  the  King's  Pleasure 

shown  in  dark  eyes  and  hair  as  well  as  the 
lesser  stature  which  are  the  characteristics  of 
the  French  race.  The  King's  eyes  roved 
over  the  strong,  well-knit  figure  with  its 
stately  carriage,  and  grace,  thence  to  the 
merry  face  with  its  large,  somewhat  mournful, 
hazel  eyes  and  the  firm,  wilful  mouth.  Cloth- 
ed in  a  suit  of  white  satin,  his  light  brown 
hair  falling  in  heavy  curls  to  his  shoulders, 
medals  of  gold  and  of  colors  gleaming  on  his 
breast,  Francis,  Comte  of  Angouleme,  was  a 
splendid  specimen  of  handsome  manhood  as 
he  bowed  and  swung  low  his  broad  and  long- 
plumed  hat.  Moreover,  his  laughing  manner, 
his  charming  gallantries,  his  mockeries,  his 
smiles,  all  won  him  friends.  Yet  to  each  and 
every  one  he  presented  the  carefree  air  of  a 
mocker.  His  smile  was  mocking;  his  eyes 
gleamed  with  mockery;  his  whole  form  swayed 
and  bent  with  a  subtle  mockery;  and  few 
indeed  guessed  how  much  his  manner  was  the 
mask  of  a  suppressed  sorrow  and  unhappiness. 

The  King  arose  as  his  cousin  approached, 
and  saluted  him. 

"I  give  thee  greeting,  Cousin,"  he  said,  and 
his  voice  was  newly  kind. 

"I  am  at  your  service,  Sire,"  was  the 
Comte 's  half  laughing  response. 

"Help  us,  then,  to  make  merry  this  night, 
Comte  of  Angouleme.  Afterward— 


The  Wandering  Jester  57 

"I  accept  the  charge,  Your  Highness. 
'Afterward,'  Sire—  the  Comte  repeated 
significantly  as  he  bowed  and  turned  away  to 
greet  the  nobles.  Continuing  on  his  merry 
way,  he  laughingly  raised  the  ladies'  hands 
toward  his  lips,  only  to  relinquish  them  un- 
touched, and  at  his  skill  the  noblewomen 
smiled  in  flattered  approval.  Yet  all  the 
while  he  made  his  way  to  Lady  Marguerite's 
side  as  surely  as  if  her  presence  were  a  magnet. 
But  when  he  reached  her  he  had  no  mockeries 
with  which  to  greet  her,  only  speaking  cordially 
and  in  a  manner  which  plainly  showed  an 
unusual  spirit  of  friendship.  It  wrere  as  if  some 
unwonted  shyness,  or  mayhap  respect,  over- 
came him  in  her  nearness. 

Before  he  could  enter  into  conversation, 
the  jester  glided  stealthily  to  his  side  and 
tapped  him  impudently  upon  the  arm. 

"Good  even,  oh,  mocking  one!"  he  cried. 
"So  thou  hast  come  at  last  to  enliven  the 
waiting  throng  with  gallantries." 

:<That  were  more  to  thy  duty,"  retorted 
the  Comte  quickly,  "for  what  other  use  does 
the  fool  play  amongst  us!" 

"Then  we  are  cousins,"  cried  the  other, 
smirking. 

"Mayhap  nearer  related  than  that,  my 
friend." 

"Ho,  ho!     Not  quite  the  fool  that  I  had 


58  At  the  King's  Pleasure 

thought.  No  fool  doth  recognize  his  foolish- 
ness, and  thus  thou  provest  wisdom." 

"Mayhap  the  time  will  come  when  I  shall 
know  so  well  my  foolishness  that  I  shall  dare 
to  don  the  garb  of  fool  even  as  thou  hast  done, 
rash  jester. " 

"Hast  thou  a  medal  for  thine  wisdom  or, 
mayhap,  for  thine  impudence?"  The  jester 
poked  his  medals  with  a  far  from  easy  touch. 

"Not  yet,  but  if  I  talk  with  thee,  I  soon 
shall  acquire  a  gift  for  the  latter.  'Tis  always 
the  evil  ways  which  are  easiest  learned,  as  thou 
no  doubt  hast  found.  If  impudence  is  reward- 
ed by  medals  why,  forsooth,  thou  couldst 
fashion  thyself  a  garment  from  them  which 
would  rival  in  size  and  length  any  coat  we 
see  tonight. " 

"And  I  maintain,  O  mocking  one,  a  fool's 
a  fool,  of  which  more  anon."  With  a  hand- 
spring the  jester  made  his  adieux;  but  as  he 
went,  the  hardness  in  his  eyes  belied  his  jesting 
and  gave  token  of  some  hidden  meaning  for 
his  address. 

"The  Lady  Montarson  does  not  seem  to  be 
in  attendance,"  said  the  Prince. 

"  Nay,  Comte  of  Angouleme.  The  Princess 
is  still  at  dinner  I  believe. " 

"And  the  assembly  is  dull,"  he  laughed. 

"Until  Your  Highness  came,"  she  ridiculed 
in  return.  "When  Your  Highness  arrives 


The  Wandering  Jester  59 

dullness   departs   from   all   noblewomen,    my 
lord." 

"All?"  he  questioned  derisively,  as  he 
studied  her  serious  face. 

"All  who  have  been  dull,  my  lord,  I  should 
have  said.  Some  of  us  are  never  dull." 

"True.  Your  wit,  my  Lady  Montarson, 
proves  to  me  its  lack  of  dullness. " 

At  this  moment  the  Princess,  escorted  by 
M.  Beaumon,  at  last  entered  the  throne-room 
and  made  her  way  to  Marguerite's  side. 
King  Louis's  eyes  lighted  at  sight  of  her,  and 
he  watched  her  closely  for  many  minutes. 
Meanwhile  the  Prince  greeted  her  in  the  same 
gallant  fashion  which  characterized  his  treat- 
ment of  all  women  of  court.  Then  once  more 
he  faced  Marguerite,  and  continued  his  con- 
versation where  he  had  been  interrupted. 

"I  trust,  Lady  Marguerite,  that  my  jesting 
has  not  forfeited  me  a  favor  at  your  hands. 
My  mood  is  craving  for  a  song,  a  song  such  as 
only  you  can  sing."  His  mockery  was  van- 
ished now,  and  the  girl  read  aright  the  sadness 
in  his  tone — a  sadness  she  had  learned  to 
understand,  and  which  she  knew  he  showed 
only  to  her,  being  ever  gallantly  merry  in  all 
other  society. 

She  took  her  harp  from  his  hands  and  seated 
herself  in  a  low  chair  beside  the  window. 
The  Prince  took  his  place  near  her,  where  he 


60  At  the  King's  Pleasure 

could  view  her  countenance,  yet  remained 
screened  from  the  gaze  of  courtiers  by  his 
position.  Even  as  Marguerite  touched  the 
strings  preparatory  to  beginning  her  song, 
however,  an  officer  in  uniform  approached 
the  throne,  and  she  waited  that  he  might  be 
heard. 

"Monsieur,"  the  king  bade  him  speak. 

"Sire,  you  desired  the  presence  of  my  Lord 
D ' Antaurier.  I  sought  him  to  deliver  Your 
Highness 's  letter,  and  he  is  not  in  the  palace 
or  its  vicinity." 

"He  has  left!"  cried  the  King  in  surprise, 
and  instinctively  he  looked  toward  the  Prin- 
cess. 'That  must  be  a  mistake,  Monsieur. 
I  bade  him  see  me  before  his  departure." 
Still  his  gaze  was  fixed  upon  Helene. 

"Sire!"  She  came  forward  proudly,  un- 
flinchingly. "It  is  indeed  true  that  Lord 
D 'Antaurier  is  no  longer  at  the  palace.  He 
received  a  message  which  called  him  away  at 
once.  I  was  at  dinner  with  him  at  the  time, 
and  he  left  me  to  Monsieur  Beaumon  's  escort. " 

:<  Your  Highness  does  not  know  the  contents 
of  the  message?" 

"No,  Sire,  methought  it  was  to  do  with  his 
recent  mission." 

The  King  smiled  upon  her  satirically. 
Then  he  faced  Lord  DeChatton,  and  cried 
with  sudden  sharpness: 


The  Wandering  Jester  61 

"My  Lord  DeChatton,  do  you  send  a 
messenger  at  once  to  Lord  D ' Antaurier  's 
lodgings,  bidding  him  await  my  pleasure  here 
at  the  palace  before  he  sleeps  this  night. " 

DeChatton  bowed.  "Your  Majesty!"  he 
murmured,  and  left  the  room. 

Marguerite  watched  Helene  questioningly, 
but  the  Princess  only  smiled  and  let  her  hand 
fall  caressingly  upon  her  friend's  shoulder. 

"Thou  wert  about  to  sing,  Marguerite?" 

]'Yea." 

"Then  let  us  enjoy  it  also."  The  Princess 
glanced  at  the  Prince  and  found  him  regarding 
her  strangely.  She  looked  down  instantly  and 
her  face  became  cold  almost  to  disdain.  The 
Prince  turned  away  from  her  with  a  sigh,  and 
gazed  out  upon  the  dark  gardens. 

Marguerite  touched  her  harp  gently,  and 
then  once  more  her  sweet  voice  broke  the 
silence  which  filled  all  the  room  after  His 
Majesty's  order. 

"  When  night  falls  in  dreamy  silence 

On  the  garden  sweet  with  flowers, 
And  I  seek  in  sad  compliance 

To  vain  longings,  scented  bowers, 
Then  deep  in  my  heart 's  recesses, 

Thoughts  wake  pleading  to  be  heard, 
Nature  soothes  with  soft  caresses 

And  my  soul's  with  wonder  stirred. 


62  At  the  King's  Pleasure 

"In  the  shadows  and  the  gloaming 

Music  falling  clear  and  light, 
Then  I  dream  my  soul's  deep  dreaming, 

Follow  fancy's  playful  sprite. 
Longings  fill  me  'neath  the  magic, 

Longings  which  I  recognize, 
And  though  wakening  spells  the  tragic 

I  bid  love  to  tyrannize." 

The  charm  her  plaintive  words  cast  held  all 
hearers  silent,  and  many  moments  passed 
before  any  sound  was  heard;  and  then  the 
Prince  came  to  her  side.  "I  thank  you,  Lady 
Montarson,"  he  said  in  a  voice  that  thrilled 
her.  ''You  have  filled  my  need,  yet  left  me 
hungering  for  that  which  makes  it." 

She  looked  into  his  face  with  a  gaze  so  full 
of  kindly  understanding  that  he  felt  a  throb 
new  and  strange  to  his  heart.  "My  lord," 
she  said  gently,  and  for  some  reason  her  tone 
brought  a  balm  for  his  sadness,  "the  time 
will  come  when  that  need  will  be  filled — by 
the  only  one  who  can  ever  really  fill  it. " 

He  smiled  but  shook  his  head.  "I  dare  not 
hope,"  he  said,  as  he  turned  away. 

The  Princess  looked  after  him  in  wonder, 
her  face  alight  with  a  new  thought.  "Mar- 
guerite!" she  exclaimed  at  last,  "thou  only 
hast  read  his  heart!  I  see  it  now.  His 
gallantry,  his  mockery,  are  but  masks.  In 
reality — 


The  Wandering  Jester  63 

"In  reality,  Helene,  he  is  as  true  and  fine  a 
man  as  ever  lived.  He  is  a  Prince,  has  power, 
rank,  wealth,  friends  mayhap,  everything 
indeed  but  that  he  craves — love." 

The  Princess  nodded  reflectively.  "I  be- 
lieve I  can  like  him  now,"  she  said  slowly. 
"Marguerite,  I  understand,  too,  why  thou 
badst  me  wear  a  rose.  Thou  didst  plan  even 
then  to  sing  thy  song  of  roses." 

''Your  Highness  does  not  chide  me  for  my 
temerity?"  asked  Marguerite,  in  pretended 
humility. 

The  Princess  smiled  upon  her  happily,  and 
her  voice  faltered  as  she  said : 

"Nay,  Maguerite,  thou  knowest  that  I  have 
thee  to  thank  for  my  great  happiness.  Thy 
friendship,  thy  tenderness,  thy  playfulness 
have  been  my  joy  since  thy  coming.  May 
heaven  bless  and  guard  thee,  dear,  and  bring 
to  thee  thy  gladness  once  again. " 

A  silence  fell  upon  them,  which  presently 
was  rudely  broken. 

"Permit  me  to  pay  my  respects  to  my  suc- 
cessor as  entertainer  of  the  court."  The 
jester  shook  his  bells  in  Marguerite's  ear. 

Before  Marguerite  could  answer,  had  she 
so  desired,  the  Prince,  who  had  followed  the 
fool,  addressed  him  half  angrily : 

"Have  a  care,  fellow,"  he  said  as  he  eyed 
him  piercingly,  "else  we  relieve  you  of  your 


64  At  the  King's  Pleasure 

disguise  and  show  you  to  be  a  bigger  fool  than 
even  the  motley  proves  you. " 

A  flood  of  crimson  swept  the  jester's  face, 
and  he  cast  a  startled  glance  upon  the  Prince. 
Then  slowly  the  color  receded,  and  his  counten- 
ance portrayed  an  expression  almost  akin  to 
relief.  His  wonted  impudence  returned,  and 
he  stepped  impishly  toward  his  threatener. 
He  shook  his  baton  in  the  Prince's  face  warn- 
ingly  and  rakishly. 

"Never  fear,  Monsieur  Mocker,  love  is  for 
fools,  and  thou  shalt  have  thy  share  before 
many  moons." 

With  this  parting  shot  which  did  not  miss 
the  mark  as  the  Prince's  confusion  proved, 
the  jester  spun  on  his  toes,  and  uttering  a 
defiant  laugh  which  caused  many  hearers  to 
shudder  in  distaste,  he  sped  toward  the 
throne. 


Have  a  care,  fellow,  else  we  relieve  you  of  your  disguise  and  show  you 
to  be  a  bigger  fool  than  even  the  motley  proves  you  ' " 


CHAPTER  IV 
The  Summons 

"My  Lord  DeChatton,  you  delivered  my 
message  to  the  Comte  of  Angouleme?" 

''Yea,  Sire,  several  hours  since.  Your 
Majesty  saw  him  in  the  assembly  room  to- 
night, and  he  awaits  your  service  at  nine- 
thirty  this  evening. " 

"That  is  well.    And  my  Lord  D 'Antaurier?" 

Lord  DeChatton  knew  perfectly  well  that 
the  King  had  exchanged  words  with  the 
Prince  which  had  assured  his  audience  that 
night,  and  thus  he  realized  that  this  preface 
only  led  up  to  the  real  question  which  troubled 
him. 

"Lord  D 'Antaurier  was  not  at  his  lodgings, 
Sire.  My  messenger  gave  Your  Highness 's 
order  to  his  serving-man  and  then  each  set 
forth  to  find  my  lord. " 

"Ah!  So  my  lord  was  not  at  his  lodgings!" 
the  King  remarked  grimly. 

"Nay,  Sire,  and  his  man  informed  me  that 
he  doubted  if  his  master  would  return  this 
evening.  He— 

"Not  return  tonight!"  Louis  interrupted 
65 


66  At  the  King's  Pleasure 

anxiously.  "My  lord,  I  tell  you  that  I  must 
see  D  'Antaurier  this  evening.  Sacre,  he  must 
be  found  if  it  takes  all  the  army  to  locate  him. 
Have  I  not  loyal  subjects  to  heed  my  will,  or 
must  /  go  forth  to  gain  my  desires?" 

DeChatton  hid  a  smile  which  the  King's 
temper  provoked.  "I  was  not  aware,  Your 
Highness,  that  the  matter  was  so  urgent.  I 
will  give  immediate  orders  for  more  messengers 
to  trace  him. " 

The  King  noted  his  sarcasm  and  bit  his 
lips  angrily.  As  he  was  about  to  rebuke  him 
a  page  entered. 

"His  Highness,  the  Comte  of  Angouleme. " 

For  an  instant  the  King  was  sullen,  then  an 
amused  smile  curved  his  lips,  and  he  sank 
back  into  his  chair. 

"Bid  the  Prince  enter;  and  you,  my  lords," 
—he  turned  to  his  gentlemen — "may  retire 
for  the  present. " 

As  the  nobles  withdrew,  the  Prince  came 
forward  toward  the  King. 

"My  lord,"  said  His  Majesty  in  greeting. 

'Your  Highness  sent  for  me?" 

'Yea,  Cousin  Francis,  and  on  a  matter 
touching  vitally  upon  your  personal  happi- 
ness. " 

The  Comte  smiled  mockingly.  "I  trust, 
Sire,  that  Le  Capitaine  's  name  is  not  to  be 
mentioned. " 


The  Summons  67 

The  King  arose  and  his  eyes  gleamed 
angrily.  "Le  Capitaine!  Le  Capitaine! 
What  meanest  thou?  What  knowest  thou  of 
him?  What  can  he  have  to  do  with  fortunes 
of  kings  and  princes?" 

The  Prince  still  smiled  imperturbably. 
"Much,  Sire,  or  so  he  seems  to  believe." 

"How  heard  you,  Comte,  of  his  latest 
demand?" 

The  other  lifted  his  eyebrows  inquiringly, 
and  responded  jauntily,  "His  latest,  Sire? 
Is  there  then  a  latest?  Methinks  the  rascal 
grows  bold." 

The  King  sank  back  in  his  chair  wearily, 
and  dropped  his  imperious  manner.  "Aye, 
he  grows  bold,  and  I,  Due  of  Orleans,  so-called 
'the  invincible,'  am  powerless  to  scorn  him." 

The  Prince  became  serious.  "Your  Majes- 
ty! Sire,  you  have  but  to  command  me. 
Surely  the  throne  is  not  imperiled.  This 
traitor  does  not  assail  Your  Highness?" 

"Yea,  but  he  does,  and  as  I  said,  Cousin,  I 
am  powerless,  I,  even  I,  King  Louis  XII  of 
France!"  He  laughed  bitterly. 

"What  does  he  demand,  Sire?" 

"Not  an  impossible  thing.  Nay,  even  a 
wise  one,  mayhap;  for  this  much  I  will  con- 
cede. Not  only  he  and  the  people  who  rise  at 
his  voice  would  rejoice  in  its  consummation, 
but  even  the  nobles  highest  in  the  land  and 


68  At  the  King' s  Pleasure 

most  loyal  to  the  throne  would  not  be  dis- 
pleased. Yea,  Cousin,  even  I  might  have 
cause  to  smile  upon  it  if  it  were  not  a  demand 
of  this  villain  who  wishes  me  harm." 

Francis  had  been  watching  the  King  shrewd- 
ly and  had  foreseen  the  result  of  his  preface. 
Consequently  he  laughed  harshly  as  he  asked: 

"And  this  demand,  Sire,  upon  which  you 
could  smile  if  suggested  by  so  popular  a 
noble  as — well — let  us  say,  my  Lord  D'An- 
taurier?"  he  suggested,  significantly. 

The  King  half  arose  as  he  uttered  a  cry  of 
amazement.  "Comte,  has  a  wizard's  power 
been  granted  you,  or  are  you  mad,  that  you 
mock  me?  To  mention  Lord  D ' Antaurier 's 
name  now!  Why,  man,  his  fortune  as  well 
as  your  own  and  mine  is  in  the  balance. 
You  torture  me.  You  play  upon  my  terror. 
You  conjure  up  his  name  to  strike  my  heart 
with  fear.  Even  now  I  hear  the  spears  and 
weapons  beating  upon  the  castle-gate.  I 
hear  the  shrieks  and  moans  of  the  mob  crying 
for  my  blood — and  yours — and  Lord  D' An- 
taurier's — aye,  and  of  the  Princess  Helene's 
as  well!  I  hear  the  thunder  of  the  stamping 
throng,  the  murder  in  their  raging  cries,  the 
horror  of  clanking  swords!  Yea,  I  see  all 
Paris  a  mass  of  devouring  flame,  riot,  and 
fire,  and  death  let  loose  in  a  hell  incarnate. 
My  throne  trembles,  the  palace  upheaves, 


The  Summons  69 

and  I  am  falling,  falling  with  the  mighty  ruin, 
and  over  me  bends  the  evil,  gloating,  trium- 
phant face  of  that  fiend  who  rouses  Paris  to 
this  pitch.  He  gloats,  and  smiles,  and  mocks 
— and  then — and  then — !" 

His  voice  sank  to  a  whisper.  His  counte- 
nance was  distorted  with  fear,  and  he  fell  back 
into  his  seat,  his  fingers  clutching  his  throat. 

The  Prince  burst  into  a  merry  laugh.  "My 
lord! — my  lord,  permit  me  to  pay  homage  to 
your  powers  of  acting.  Long  have  I  known 
your  cleverness  as  warrior,  statesman,  diplo- 
matist, but  never  before  have  I  realized  your 
vast  powers  of  simulation.  And  now  for  the 
demand,  Sire,  which  shall  keep  your  throne 
from  trembling  in  this  frightful  fashion!" 
The  sarcasm  in  his  tone  was  cutting. 

The  King  allowed  his  hand  to  fall  slowly  to 
his  side,  and  he  gazed  upon  his  cousin  with 
new  admiration  in  his  eyes.  He  marveled  at 
the  accuracy  with  which  the  Prince  had 
pierced  his  ruse.  Knowing  his  cousin 's  friend- 
ship, he  had  sought  to  win  consent  to  this 
demand,  thus  keeping  peace  with  his  enemies, 
by  playing  upon  his  sympathy.  The  Prince 
had  been  too  shrewd  for  his  method.  He 
dropped  his  mask,  and  said  coldly: 

''That  you  wed  the  Princess  Helene. " 

Francis  bowed  and  though  he  still  smiled, 
his  eyes  glittered,  as  he  replied  distinctly, 


70  At  the  King's  Pleasure 

"Your  Highness  was  right  in  saying  that  it 
affected  my  personal  happiness— 

The  King  interrupted  eagerly,  "Cousin, 
consider;  you  are  no  longer  young;  neither 
have  you  found  one  to  whom  you  have  given 
your  love.  Here  in  France  there  is  one  woman 
only  who  is  your  equal  in  birth.  What,  then, 
more  fitting  than  that  you  and  she  should 
unite  in  friendly,  if  not  loving,  marriage? 
You,  as  I  say,  are  no  longer  youthful.  She, 
on  the  other  hand,  is  beautiful,  accomplished 
and  amiable;  in  fact,  will  make  a  wife  for  you 
whom  all  the  world  will  honor  and  admire." 

"I  do  not  question  it.  In  fact  no  one  can 
tell  me  of  the  Princess  Helene's  many  excel- 
lent qualities.  I  respect  and  appreciate  her. 
Unfortunately  for  your  desire,  I  do  not  love 
her.  Nor  does  she  love  me.  Unlike  myself, 
however,  she  has  given  her  love  elsewhere; 
while  I  have  yet  to  find  the  woman  whom  I 
could  love  as  well  as  admire. " 

"The  more  reason  why  you  should  not  be 
averse  to  this  marriage." 

"Your  Highness  is  mistaken  in  my  charac- 
ter. Because  I  shall  not  suffer  disappoint- 
ment in  such  a  union  does  not  mean  that  I 
shall  not  lower  myself  in  my  own  self-esteem. 
It  is  as  well  that  Your  Majesty  should  know 
something  of  my  opinions,  then  you  will 
understand  why  I  cannot  agree  with  you  in 


The  Summons  71 

this  matter.  Perhaps  one  would  not  guess 
from  my  appearance  that  I  have  cherished 
certain  ideals  which  have  become  my  law  of 
existence,  and  which  I  cannot  violate  at  this 
late  day.  Strange  as  it  may  seem,  since  I 
have  dwelt  in  a  court  where  most  emotions  are 
superficial,  I  believe  in  love;  not  love  which 
amuses  itself  for  passing  pleasure,  not  love 
which  lies  in  mere  comradeship  and  congenial 
friendship,  but  a  love  which  surpasses  all  else 
in  endurance,  in  beauty,  in  forbearance,  in 
faith,  in  trust,  and  in  peace.  Your  Majesty 
will  term  me  a  sentimentalist.  That  does  not 
appall  me.  I  have  hoped  for  such  love, 
believed  in  its  existence,  and  still  dream  of  it; 
and  I  do  not  intend  to  place  a  barrier  which 
shall  make  it  impossible  of  attainment.  My 
first  duty  is  to  myself,  to  the  self-respect 
which  I  have  kept  inviolate.  My  second  is  to 
this  woman  whom  you  would  have  me  wed 
while  I  do  not  love  her.  She  does  love,  even 
as  I  hope  some  day  to  do,  and  I  shall  not  rob 
her  of  her  happiness.  Your  Highness  has  not 
questioned  her  feeling  in  the  matter,  I  should 
judge,  if  certain  events  in  the  throne-room 
are  to  be  considered  indicative." 

"You  mean  her  evident  friendliness  toward 
my  Lord  D'Antaurier?  I  doubt  if  the  Prin- 
cess Helene  would  so  far  forget  her  rank  as  to 
marry  beneath  her.  I  rely  on  her  good  sense 
in  this  crisis. ' 


72  At  the  King's  Pleasure 

The  King's  new  dignity  became  him  well. 
Nevertheless  the  Prince  was  not  impressed, 
for  when  he  answered,  his  manner  once  more 
was  openly  deriding. 

"Many  thanks,  Sire.  My  good  sense  has 
seldom  been  in  evidence,  I  admit,  yet  I  have 
been  foolish  enough  to  believe  that  our  person- 
al happiness  was  not  so  trivial  a  matter  that 
a  'friendly  marriage'  should  constitute  our 
greatest  aim.  Let  me  further  remark  that 
good  sense  from  my  view-point  bids  me  retain 
my  own  self-respect  at  least  enough  to  refuse 
to  countenance  this  absurd  sacrifice  of  my 
own  and  the  Princess's  future  contentment. 
I  am  fully  aware  that  such  a  view-point  is 
not  in  keeping  with  the  highly  honorable 
methods  of  this  trivial  court.  Still  I  repeat 
to  Your  Highness,  that  I  shall  not  be  a  party 
to  this  arrangement.  I  will  marry  when  and 
where  I  please,  but  the  woman  of  my  choice 
is  not  Princess  Helene,  nor  am  I  the  man  of 
hers." 

"And  I  say,  Comte  of  Angouleme,  that  you 
shall  wed  the  Princess!"  The  King,  pale 
with  anger,  stepped  down  from  the  dais. 

"Her  Highness,  the  Princess  Helene!" 

'"Sire,  I  must  agree  with  the  Comte  of 
Angouleme  in  this  matter.  I  thank  him  for 
his  defense  of  my  principles  as  well  as  of  his 
own."  The  Princess  approached  the  Comte, 


The  Summons  73 

and  held  out  her  hand  to  him.  He  flashed  a 
kindly  glance  upon  her  as  he  bent  and  kissed  it. 

"Your  Highness  heard  our  discussion,  then." 
The  King  had  partially  regained  his  self- 
control. 

"Enough  of  it  to  know  what  reason  Your 
Highness  had  for  requesting  my  presence." 

"Then  there  is  no  need  to  repeat  my  pur- 
pose. May  I  ask  why  Your  Highness  looks 
upon  this  request  with  disfavor?" 

"I  think  Your  Majesty  has  guessed  the 
reason.  There  was  a  time,  Sire,  when  you 
did  not  refuse  my  Lord  D'Antaurier  permis- 
sion to  marry  me. " 

"He  has  told  you  this,  then?" 

"He  has  told  me  everything  that  I  should 
know. " 

"Even  that  he  loves  thee,  I  should  judge." 

"Of  which,  Sire,  I  am  not  only  glad  but 
proud,"  returned  Helene  unflinchingly,  as  she 
defied  her  sovereign's  gaze. 

"Yet  this  in  my  mind  is  the  only  thing  I 
have  against  the  noble.  As  a  man  I  admire 
and  trust  him.  As  your  suitor,  he  is  impossi- 
ble. His  rank  is  far  below  your  own. " 

"Am  I  to  understand,  Your  Majesty,  that 
you  have  previously  granted  consent  to  the 
marriage  of  my  Lord  D'Antaurier  to  Princess 
Helene?" 

Something  in  the  Prince's  challenge  as  he 


74  At  the  King's  Pleasure 

stepped  toward  the  King  made  the  other  fall 
back  a  pace,  and  a  startled  expression  came 
into  his  countenance. 

"So  long  ago,  Cousin,  that  it  is  easily  with- 
drawn," he  replied,  haughtily. 

"Nevertheless,  I  hold  a  promise  a  promise. 
Another  of  my  oddities,  Your  Highness,"  he 
went  on  derisively,  "and,  accordingly,  I  say 
now,  once  and  for  all,  I  refuse  to  wed  the 
Princess  Helene.  I  believe  she  will  pardon 
me  the  seeming  rudeness. "  He  turned  to  her 
with  a  smile  and  bow,  then  again  faced  the 
King  and  continued  bitingly:  "I  am  surprised, 
Sire,  that  you  submit  thusly  to  the  demand 
of  such  a  villian  as  Le  Capitaine. " 

His  scorn  stung  the  King  to  white  heat  of 
wrath.  "It  is  my  wish  as  well  as  his;  and  I 
tell  you,  Comte  of  Angouleme,  that  you  shall 
obey  me  in  this  matter.  I  am  your  sovereign, 
and,  though  I  have  loved  you  well,  you  shall 
do  as  I  bid  or  pay  the  penalty  of  the  traitor. 
Leave  me  now.  Unless  your  answer  tomorrow 
is  in  accord  with  my  demand,  we  shall  come 
to  a  better  understanding  of  my  authority." 

With  a  gesture  he  dismissed  them.  The 
Princess  turned  silently  away,  but  her  eyes 
were  wide  with  horror.  The  Prince  stared 
at  his  sovereign  steadily,  and  his  lips  were 
white  from  anger. 

"Sire,  yours  is  the  power,"  he  spoke  in  a 


The  Summons  75 

voice  that  almost  hissed  in  his  effort  for 
control.  'Yet  this  much  I  say  unto  you, 
your  command  shall  never  be  obeyed  by  me. 
From  this  day  forth  I  shall  never  look  upon 
your  face  willingly.  I  bid  you  farewell. " 

Without  so  much  as  a  salute,  he  swung  on 
his  heel.  But  at  the  door  his  face  relaxed  as 
he  held  aside  the  drapery  for  the  Princess  to 
pass  out.  Always  gallant,  he  remained  even 
now  the  perfect  gentleman  of  France. 

"Let  me  bid  Your  Highness  goodbye,"  he 
said  half  sadly.  "And  let  me  add,  Princess 
Helene,  that  for  your  attitude  this  night,  I 
honor  you.  I  wish  you  all  joy  in  your  love, 
and  trust  that  it  may  ever  be  yours." 

"I  thank  you,  Prince,"  the  Princess's 
voice  was  sweet  with  a  new  understanding. 
"It  is  indeed  imperative  that  I  should  thank 
you  for  the  service  you  have  done  me  this 
night.  I  shall  always  think  of  you  with 
kindness,  and  with  the  wish  that  you  may 
sometime  know  the  happiness  which  love  has 
brought  to  me." 

The  drapery  fell  behind  her,  but  in  that 
last  glance  each  thrilled  with  a  newly -acquired 
friendship. 

"  Cousin  Francis, "  the  King's  voice  quivered 
with  suppressed  fury. 

Instantly  the  Prince's  face  was  tense  with 
its  former  anger. 


76  At  the  King's  Pleasure 

"Sire,"  he  cried  bitterly,  "there  can  be 
nothing  further  between  us.  I  have  told  you 
my  purpose,  and  now  once  again  I  say — 
farewell!" 

"Francis! "  A  second  time  the  King  roared 
out  his  name,  and  he  crossed  the  room  quickly 
toward  his  cousin. 

An  instant  later  the  drapery  fell  with  a 
quiet  shiver.  The  Prince  had  gone,  ignoring 
his  sovereign's  call.  When  the  King  reached 
the  doorway  he  found  the  great  ante-room 
deserted.  A  moment  he  stared  unbelieving- 
ly, and  his  face  was  blank  with  amazement. 

"He  dared!"  he  whispered.  "He  dared! 
Verily,  he  is  a  man  to  respect  and  admire!" 


CHAPTER  V 
The  Searchers  and  What  They  Found 

;'Yea,  Monsieur,  it  is  here  that  we  shall 
find  many  of  Le  Capitaine  's  men,  and  mayhap 
a  clue  of  where  our  lad  is  wandering.  I 
know  it  looks  formidable,  but  sometimes 
where  least  we  think  to  find  knowledge  there 
we  come  upon  it.  Missions  in  these  troublous 
days  carry  the  best  of  men  to  wondrous 
quarters.  Even  as  we  come,  so  may  he  in 
pursuit  of  his  undertaking. " 

"Lead  on,  friend,  though  these  slimy  streets 
are  not  to  my  liking  still  you  may  be  right  and 
I  will  gladly  follow  in  the  hope. " 

The  two  noblemen  picked  their  way  through 
the  poorer  district  of  the  slums  of  Paris.  A 
drizzling  rain  had  set  in  that  morning,  but  as 
it  had  neared  nightfall,  the  weather  had 
cleared,  leaving  all  the  country  refreshed  and 
fragrant,  except  here  where  filth  and  slime 
had  only  been  accentuated.  Moreover,  the 
men  they  passed  were  soldiers  or  unkempt 
specimens  fresh  from  grog-shops,  and  smelling 
evilly  of  their  vile  surroundings.  These  glanced 

77 


78  At  the  King's  Pleasure 

curiously  at  the  two  seekers  who,  although 
garbed  in  poor  costumes,  affecting  to  disguise 
their  rank,  still  showed  plainly  certain  quali- 
ties which  set  them  apart  from  this  rabble  of 
Paris. 

Eagerly  each  scanned  the  face  of  every 
passerby,  vainly  hoping  to  stumble  upon  the 
one  they  sought,  and  thinking,  mayhap,  to 
find  him  in  some  disguise.  For  an  hour  they 
wandered,  ever  entering  farther  into  the 
dingy  sections.  At  last,  when  about  to 
despair,  they  came  upon  at  least  an  interest- 
ing diversion. 

In  the  distance  sounded  cries  of  anger  and 
terror,  and  the  thud  of  muffled  blows. 

"What  is  it?"  asked  DeChatton,  anxiously. 

"A  street  fight,  perhaps,"  responded  M. 
Beaumon.  "Suppose  we  investigate." 

As  he  spoke,  he  hurried  his  pace  and  De- 
Chatton followed  his  example.  In  a  moment 
they  had  broken  into  a  run,  for  it  was  plain 
from  the  sounds  which  reached  them  that  the 
fray  was  becoming  momentarily  more  serious. 
A  sudden  turn  in  the  road  brought  them  to  a 
halt.  Three  men  of  evil  appearance  were 
pummeling  a  fourth  whom  they  had  thrown 
into  the  gutter,  and  they  were  evidently  much 
pleased  with  their  success  in  eliciting  frightened 
yells  from  their  victim.  Other  soldiers^and 
loiterers  watched  the  conflict  delightedly, 


The  Searchers  and  What  They  Found    79 

making  no  move  to  help  the  fellow  in  his 
unequal  fight. 

"Hold,  ye  ruffians!"  cried  M.  Beaumon 
in  a  frenzy  of  wrath,  and  he  rushed  upon  the 
three  assailants.  "In  the  King's  name  what 
means  this  brawling?  By  my  faith,  but  ye 
are  cowards,  three  against  one,  and  ye  others 
onlookers!" 

His  strong  right  arm  shot  out,  and  before 
its  might  one  of  the  men  went  sprawling  into 
the  gutter,  whence  he  set  up  a  howl  which 
proved  that  he  was  the  worse  for  liquor. 
DeChatton  had  not  paused  to  reason  nor  to 
ask  M.  Beaumon  what  he  did,  but  struck  out 
valiantly,  and  a  second  soldier  fell  headlong 
into  the  street  beside  his  comrade.  The 
victim,  thus  given  opportunity,  struggled  to 
his  feet  and  grappled  with  the  one  remaining 
adversary.  The  crowd,  delighting  in  the 
discomfiture  of  their  erstwhile  heros,  burst 
into  howls  of  laughter  and  cheers  for  the 
rescuers.  But  neither  of  the  nobles  stayed 
to  listen  to  the  tumult.  In  the  confusion 
they  hurried  on  their  way,  and  had  succeeded 
in  making  good  their  flight  before  their 
absence  was  noted.  Only  the  rescued  man 
followed  and  overtook  them.  He  stammered 
his  thanks  and  explained  that  because  he,  a 
stranger,  had  dared  to  criticize  Le  Capitaine 
he  had  been  attacked  by  these,  his  partisans. 


80  At  the  King's  Pleasure 

Gradually  by  clever  questioning,  DeChatton 
drew  from  him  the  fact  that  he  was  a  follower 
of  Le  Capitaine,  yet  did  not  approve  all  his 
methods. 

With  a  sudden  inspiration  M.  Beaumon 
asked  him  concerning  the  favored  men  of  this 
leader,  and  finally  admitted  that  he  was  in 
search  of  a  friend  who  was  one  of  Le  Capi- 
taine's  men. 

The  other,  still  grateful  for  his  timely 
rescue,  advised  them  to  visit  a  certain  nearby 
wine  house  where  many  of  Le  Capitaine 's 
men  met,  and  suggested  that  there  they  might 
find  the  man  they  sought,  or  happen  upon 
some  clue  to  his  whereabouts.  He  offered  to 
accompany  them,  and  save  them  from  the 
chance  annoyance  of  Le  Capitaine 's  men. 
This  favor  the  nobles  were  only  too  glad  to 
accept.  Very  shortly  they  found  themselves 
in  one  of  the  lowest  wine-houses  of  Paris, 
one  reeking  with  all  manner  of  vice  and 
poverty,  and  in  the  discovery  they  gave  up 
all  hope  of  finding  Victor  de  Belleamie  that 
day.  It  was  not  in  such  a  place  as  this  that 
a  man  of  his  character  would  be  found,  they 
reasoned.  And  yet  an  hour  sped  by  and  still 
they  waited,  why  they  could  not  have  told. 

Finally  a  new  party  of  soldiers  entered  the 
room,  and  made  their  noisy  way  to  a  table. 
M.  Beaumon  noted  the  gallant  air  with  which 


he  who  led  the  way  seemed  to  command  the 
others.  His  figure  was  strong  and  supple. 
Grace  was  in  every  line  despite  the  poorly 
fitting  soldier's  suit.  The  carriage  of  his 
head,  the  finely  chiselled  features,  both  pro- 
claimed him  superior  to  his  fellows.  Each  of 
the  nobles  noted  the  evident  surprise  of  their 
companion  in  seeing  him,  in  fact  his  manner 
became  plainly  agitated. 

"There  is  a  man  who  serves  Le  Capitaine 
and  in  a  curious  way.  I  warrant  that  this  is 
the  first  time  that  he  has  been  in  Paris  for 
years,  except  it  be  unknown  to  anyone.  He 
dwells  in  the  province  of  Blois,  and  once  stood 
high  in  favor  of  King  Louis  XI  and  of  the 
present  King.  Now  he  is  His  Majesty's 
bitter  enemy  and  does  all  he  can  to  help  Le 
Capitaine,  yet  never  has  Le  Capitaine  looked 
upon  his  face  to  his  knowledge.  This  was 
the  arrangment  by  which  this  noble  agreed  to 
aid  him,  and  Le  Capitaine  willingly  complied, 
knowing  well  the  value  of  his  help  at  any 
price.  He  has  remained  in  the  province  of 
Blois  where  he  does  all  his  work,  communicat- 
ing by  trusted  messengers  with  Le  Capitaine 
and  meeting  his  men  only  by  night  and  in 
strange  rendezvous.  Why  he  follows  this 
method,  none  can  guess,  yet  his  desire  is  not 
questioned  nor  his  confidence  betrayed.  May- 
hap it  is  because  he  once  served  at  court,  and 


82  At  the  King's  Pleasure 

was  a  favorite  with  His  Majesty.  He  is  still 
a  gallant  and  woos  the  ladies'  favor.  There 
are  few  who  can  equal  him  in  soft  flatteries 
and  courtesies  which  win  the  women.  But 
in  this  as  in  all  things  his  manner  covers  a 
heart  as  cruel  as  a  tiger's  and  as  treacherous 
as  a  snake's.  He  is  the  Marquis  de  Mont- 
errat. " 

The  hope  which  had  first  sprung  into  being 
that  he  might  be  Victor,  when  they  had  noted 
his  evident  air  of  nobility,  was  succeeded  by 
interest  in  his  actual  identity.  Both  had 
known  him  at  the  court  in  those  days  before 
his  treachery  had  made  King  Louis  XI  his 
enemy,  and  he  had  been  driven  from  his 
estates.  Now  they  could  not  see  his  face 
clearly  in  the  dim  light,  yet  they  watched  him 
closely. 

"You  say  that  his  coming  here  is  unusual?" 
asked  M.  Beaumon.  "Who,  then,  are  these 
men  with  him?  Not  Le  Capitaine's  men 
surely,  if  he  guards  his  identity  in  the  manner 
you  relate?" 

'The  Marquis  has  not  been  in  this  house 
for  years  to  my  certain  knowledge.  My  home 
is  in  Blois  and  I  have  seen  him  almost  daily  for 
at  least  five  years .  His  appearance  he  re  pu  zzles 
me.  It  proclaims  to  my  mind  some  plan  afoot 
of  great  importance.  These  men  are  his  own 
followers,  and  tools,  and  in  being  his  they  are 


indirectly  Le  Capitaine's.     Some  of  them  I 
know  well,  both  here  in  Paris  and  in  Blois. " 

"It  is  an  odd  story  you  tell  us.  Why  he 
should  not  desire  to  have  Le  Capitaine  know 
his  face  is  indeed  strange,  but  Le  Capitaine 's 
own  identity  is  one  of  mystery. " 

The  other  smiled  significantly.  *  There  is 
a  story,"  he  said  coldly,  "that  he  is  a  son  of 
King  Louis  XI,  but  not  an  acknowledged 
one." 

"There  are  many  stories,  Monsieur,"  said 
DeChatton  quickly,  "told  to  injure  rulers." 

Moments  passed,  and  in  their  interest  in 
the  converse  of  those  around  them  they  lost 
all  knowledge  of  the  speeding  of  time.  The 
drinkers  glanced  at  them  curiously,  but 
because  they  were  accompanied  by  one  whom 
they  knew  to  be  a  comrade  in  Le  Capitaine's 
service,  they  did  not  molest  them.  Songs 
and  cheers,  oaths  and  quarrels  were  the  sum 
of  their  riotous  pastime. 

Suddenly  over  and  above  all  voices  there 
came  an  angry  challenge. 
^"Thou'liest,  De  Monterrat!"     And  a  glass 
of  wine  was  flung  in  the  noble's  face. 

The  Marquis  sprang  to  his  feet,  his  face 
white^with  fury.  He^hadTdrank  enough  to 
make  him  ugly  and  he  now  forgot  all  discre- 
tion. His  own  glass  struck  his  accuser,  and, 
with  an  oath  which  caused  even  these  hardened 


84  At  the  King's  Pleasure 

men  to  shudder,  the  Marquis  drew  his  sword 
and  rushed  upon  the  other.  The  suddenness 
of  his  assault  gave  no  opportunity  for  inter- 
ference. The  first  speaker  drew  his  sword  in 
self-defense,  and  in  an  instant  the  two  were 
fighting  with  all  the  vigor  which  anger  roused  to 
greatest  brutality  could  inspire. 

A  moment  and  all  was  over.  With  an 
awful  oath,  and  his  face  distorted  by  his 
beastly  passion,  the  Marquis  fell  with  a  thud 
upon  the  wine-reeking  floor,  the  blood  spurt- 
ing from  a  wound  which  numbered  in  moments 
his  existence. 

M.  Beaumon  and  DeChatton  were  among 
the  first  to  reach  his  side.  The  Marquis  was 
fast  sinking  into  unconsciousness,  yet  still  his 
tongue  framed  curses  upon  his  murderer. 
Then  all  at  once  the  veil  lifted,  and  he  struggled 
to  rise  upon  his  elbow. 

:<Ye  gods!"  he  gasped.  "What  have  I  done! 
Le  Capitaine — tonight — my  appointment — ," 
he  fell  back  gasping,  and  in  his  weakness  could 
say  no  more. 

A  moment  and  he  had  breathed  his  last. 
His  fellows,  sobered  byj:he  tragedy,  gazed  in 
awe  and  fear  upon  his  still  body.  For  the 
first  time  his  murderer  awakened  to  the 
horror  of  his  deed,  and  to  realization  of  the 
anger  of  Le  Capitaine  which  was  sure  to 
overtake  him.  In  terror  he  sprang  for  the 


The  Searchers  and  What  They  Found    85 

entrance  to  escape.  Eager  hands  strove  to 
restrain  him,  but  a  stern  voice  bade  them 
let  him  go,  as  the  Marquis  had  been  the  first 
to  draw  sword.  Thus  did  the  wretch  escape, 
and  none  could  stay  his  flight. 

Meanwhile  M.  Beaumon  had  bent  over 
the  Marquis  to  make  sure  of  his  death. 

"My  God!"  he  cried  in  amazement,  and 
DeChatton  quickly  pressed  to  his  side.  "Look 
upon  him,  friend!  What  is  this  that  we  have 
found?  It  is  the  jester!" 

Only  for  a  moment  did  DeChatton  look 
upon  the  murdered  man,  then  his  eyes,  full 
of  wondering  uneasiness,  sought  his  comrade's 
gaze. 

"The  jester  of  last  evening,"  he  whispered, 
repeating  M.  Beaumon 's  words  unconsciously. 
"What  can  it  mean?  What  was  his  purpose, 
think  you,  friend?" 

M.  Beaumon 's  lips  curled  scornfully,  and 
his  face  was  coldly  stern  as  he  answered 
readily:  "Need  we  question  its  treachery, 
knowing  him  to  be  the  King's  enemy  as  we 
do?" 

$|"He  played  his  part  well — let  us  hope  not 
too  well,"  returned  DeChatton  in  reluctant 
admiration.  "He  certainly  aimed  sharp 
thrusts  at  the  Princess  Helene  and  Lord 
D'Antaurier." 


CHAPTER  VI 
The  Meeting 

A  horseman  made  his  way  slowly  up  the 
hill  on  the  outskirts  of  Paris.  His  thoughts 
given  over  to  gloom  and  bitterness  showed  in 
a  face  stern  and  grave  with  man 's  responsibil- 
ities weighing  heavily  upon  youth's  shoulders. 
The  picture  before  him  meant  nothing,  even 
though  all  the  surrounding  country  was  aglow 
in  an  exquisite  sunset,  the  more  beautiful  for 
that  rain  of  the  earlier  part  of  the  day  which 
had  left  only  more  unsavory  another  portion 
of  Paris.  With  unseeing  eyes  he  journeyed 
until  at  last  he  reached  the  hill's  very  crest, 
and  even  then  it  was  more  from  the  will  of  his 
horse  than  from  his  own  that  he  came  to  a 
halt.  Some  time  passed  and  he  was  deep  in 
thought,  and  when  at  length  he  did  arouse 
from  his  reverie  a  bitter  smile  curved  his  lips, 
betokening  that  realization  of  his  whereabouts 
brought  no  alleviation  to  his  unhappiness. 
He  noted  his  solitude  only  to  feel  relief,  and 
in  the  same  moment  he  glanced  derisively  at 
his  peasant  costume,  so  evidently  a  disguise. 

86 


The  Meeting  87 

His  silhouette  stood  out  sharply  above  the 
crest  of  the  hill,  and  the  flame  of  the  setting 
sun  danced  and  made  merry  with  its  loneli- 
ness. 

Below  lay  Paris,  now  peaceful  and  quiet. 
The  moodiness  fell  away  from  the  man's 
countenance  as  he  viewed  it.  Memories  rush- 
ed upon  him,  bringing  softness  to  his  hard 
eyes.  The  past,  the  present,  the  future  met 
and  silently  waited  in  that  moment.  In  the 
past  lay  forebodings,  disappointments,  and 
pleasures;  in  the  present  a  suspicious  peace; 
in  the  future,  perhaps  less  than  forty-eight 
hours  away,  bloodshed,  riot  and  revolution. 
The  past  of  Paris  he  knew  for  it  had  been  his. 
The  present  also  he  understood  for  it  belonged 
to  both.  But  the  future  would  not  be  identi- 
cal in  that  he  would  not  be  in  Paris.  For  the 
city,  would  be  disaster;  for  himself,  suffering. 
In  Paris  for  him  lay  ruin.  Away  from  it  lay 
despair.  His  gaze  lingered  lovingly  on  the 
roofs  sparkling  beneath  him,  then  reluctantly 
passed  beyond  to  a  dim  distance.  Thus 
should  be  renounce  Paris  and  seek  an  un- 
known land  where  he  might  dwell  in  peace 
if  not  in  happiness.  Spain  and  exile  must  be 
that  goal.  Before  his  distorted  vision  forms 
took  shape,  and  at  last  from  out  the  wavering 
masses  which  clustered  near  the  sunset  path 
he  seemed  to  conjure  up  the  blue  hills  of  Spain 


88  At  the  King's  Pleasure 

appearing  like  phantom  isles  as  through  a 
haze.  So  much  had  his  mind  dwelt  this  day 
upon  his  future. 

"Monsieur  is  prompt,"  said  a  soft  voice  at 
his  side. 

The  rider  started  and  glanced  in  alarm 
upon  the  speaker.  As  he  did  so  his  hand 
involuntarily  drew  close  his  habit,  and  he 
averted  his  head  the  next  instant.  The  other 
laughed,  and  remarked  drily: 

"It  is  past  dusk,  Monsieur,  and  moreover 
the  disguise  is  perfect.  One  would  believe 
the  Marquis  a  young  gallant  of  twenty  or 
thereabout.  Sacre,  the  Marquis  de  Monterrat 
himself  would  not  know  his  dearly  beloved  son, 
n'est-ce  pas?"  the  voice  continued  ironically. 
"Monsieur  is  silent.  Another  of  the  vagaries 
of  his  role?  Or  is  it  with  lofty  scorn  for  his 
rattlepate  companion?  But  prattle  aside;  we 
must  to  work.  Much  is  to  do  and  few  to  do 
it.  Are  you  ready,  Marquis?  Le  Capitaine 
is  in  a  hurry  as  the  time  draws  near  for  us  to 
act.  A  nasty  task  this.  And  all  because  a 
prince  has  dared  to  voice  his  own  desires. 
If  he  had  been  less  stubborn,  there  would  have 
been  no  such  attack  upon  a  woman.  Is  he  a 
dullard,  or  has  another  lady  higher  place 
within  his  heart?  If  such  be  the  case,  Mon- 
sieur, ma  foi!  it  were  dastardly  to  force  his 
inclination.  Yet  the  Princess  is  most  pleasing 


The  Meeting  89 

both  in  manner  and  appearance,  and  her 
character  makes  her  deserving  of  the  best 
that  life  can  give.  Why  he  does  not  appre- 
ciate her  charms  and  the  honor  the  King, 
his  cousin,  would  do  him  in  granting  the 
alliance— 

'Granting?'  interrupted  the  Marquis 
mockingly,  while  he  studied  his  companion 
furtively. 

Evidently  his  scrutiny  satisfied  him,  for  the 
startled  expression  which  the  other's  coming 
had  caused,  disappeared,  and  his  features 
became  once  more  at  rest.  The  rider  was  a 
man  of  about  his  own  age,  scarcely  turning 
thirty,  and  typical  of  his  race  in  his  dark 
complexion  and  medium  height.  His  face, 
however,  while  somewhat  haggard  and  worn 
as  if  from  the  hard  life  of  a  soldier,  was  never- 
theless rugged  and  strong,  betokening  courage 
and  steadfast  character.  Instinctively  the 
Marquis  knew  that  he  could  be  trusted,  for 
his  clear  eyes  returned  his  gaze  frankly,  if 
somewhat  curiously. 

"Mais  non—  '  conceded  his  friend  with  a 
shrug,  "  'commanding'  if  Monsieur  the  Marquis 
prefers. " 

"It  is  well  mended,  and  now,  mon  camarade, 
tell  me  this,  since  you  seem  so  fully  aware  of 
my  lady's  virtues,  what  of  my  Lord  D'An- 
taurier?  Would  you  have  the  Princess  throw 


90  At  the  King's  Pleasure 

him  aside  like  a  worthless  toy,  now,  at  her 
King's  command — in  order  to  appease  the 
cry  of  the  people?  Come,  my  friend,  is  it  not 
a  little  unreasonable  to  demand  that  those 
of  the  nobility  conform  their  lives  to  their 
subjects'  wishes  regardless  of  personal  desires 
and  happiness?" 

" Mon  Dieu" — the  sigh  that  accompanied 
these  words  betokened  mingled  surprise  and 
relief.  "It  is  not  often  that  the  Marquis 
speaks  so  warmly  and — pardon — so  nobly. 
Do  you  know  that  I — that  sometimes  it  has 
seemed  to  me — I  have  wondered — Monsieur 
the  Marquis  did  not  always  so  despise  this 
new  favorite,  D'Antaurier.  Let  me  whisper 
it,  my  friend,  a  right  fine  fellow  if  he  is  of  the 
King's  court.  I  trust  I  touch  upon  no 
sensitive  point,  Monsieur,  in  saying  this.  I 
merely  speak  in  justice,  not  in  friendship,  to 
the  noble.  It's  treason  perhaps  to  say  it  and 
Monsieur  Le  Capitaine  no  doubt  could  tell 
me  much  concerning  his  villainies."  He 
shrugged  significantly  and  hurried  on,  "But 
for  a  man  of  my  lord's  position  to  aspire  to 
the  hand  of  a  princess — surely  he  is  not  timid ! " 
He  changed  his  tone  abruptly.  "Ah,  Mon- 
sieur! What  is  love!  It  can  have  no  place 
in  courts  of  kings  and  government  intrigues, 
and  D  'Antaurier  must  have  some  good  in  him 
to  have  won  the  love  of  so  rare  a  lady  as  the 


The  Meeting  91 

Princess  Helene.  Alas,  mon  camarade,  it  is 
well  you  know  not  the  'divine  passione'  since 
this  night's  work  is  before  you.  Look  well, 
Marquis,  upon  Paris  as  it  lies  quiescent. 
Tomorrow  its  streets  may  be  crimson  with 
blood.  We  could  say  that  we  hold  her 
destiny  in  our  power.  Does  it  not  make  a 
tremor  in  your  soul  at  the  thought?  I  would 
that  we  could  pause  and  leave  her  future  to 
other  actors  in  the  fray.  The  papers  drawn 
up  even  as  they  were  so  long  ago,  must  be  in 
our  hands  before  morning  or  the  kingdom  will 
be  in  arms  and  glorieuse  France  in  revolution. 
And  for  paltry  reason  enough,  surely!  Be- 
cause the  King's  cousin  refuses  to  wed  as  his 
people  demand.  Because  a  cousin  of  Frederic 
D'Antaurier  has  in  her  possession  the  King's 
consent  to  his  union  with  the  Princess  Helene. 
Another  innocent  item  to  cause  a  nation's 
peril,  mayhap  sorrow!  But  come,  Mademoi- 
selle passes  the  causeway  in  less  than  an  hour 
and  we  must  be  there,  we  and  our  trusty 
blades.  Forward,  Monsieur." 

"Cousins  seem  to  be  the  villains  of  the 
affair,"  murmured  the  Marquis  drily.  Then 
he  added  simply,  as  he  stifled  a  sigh,  "Lead 
on,  friend. " 

Outwardly  calm,  nonchalant,  the  very  per- 
sonification of  his  disguise  as  peasant,  inwardly 
his  thoughts  in  a  tumult,  the  Marquis  followed 


92  At  the  King's  Pleasure 

his  guide  and  half-amusedly  awaited  develop- 
ments. His  companion  all  unwittingly  had 
given  him  a  clue  to  the  situation,  and  the 
innate  recklessness  of  his  nature,  which  had 
already  brought  him  to  the  present  pass, 
urged  him  to  follow  the  course  of  events, 
regardless  of  consequences.  Chief  in  his 
thoughts,  however,  was  the  fact  that  a  woman 
was  to  be  attacked.  His  heart  leaped  within 
him  as  he  scented  danger,  and  because  a 
surprise  lay  in  store  for  this  comrade  who 
believed  in  him  so  unquestioningly. 

"  It  is  here  we  were  to  meet  Le  Capitaine. " 
As  his  companion  halted,  the  Marquis  prompt- 
ly drew  rein  and  looked  searchingly  into  the 
pathway.  Even  as  he  gazed,  four  figures 
seemed  to  dissolve  themselves  from  the  black- 
ness, and  dimly  visible  though  they  were,  a 
difference  in  uniform  was  evident,  and  the 
Marquis  distinguished  him  whom  they  called 
Le  Capitaine  by  the  gleam  of  some  medal  on 
his  breast.  He  could  not  see  his  face,  but 
when  Le  Capitaine  spoke,  his  voice  proclaimed 
his  authority. 

"So,  Marquis  de  Monterrat,  you  are  ready. 
Sacre!  a  clever  disguise,  that  of  a  peasant,  is 
it  not?  I  cannot  see,  since  by  your  wish  we 
meet  in  darkness,  and  here  are  your  atten- 
dants, a  right  stout  band.  Mademoiselle 
reaches  the  causeway  at  nine  with  one  servant. 


The  Meeting  93 

Everything  is  arranged.  You  know  what  to 
do,  and  remember,  the  papers  at  any  cost- 
all  in  the  good  cause—  With  a  salute 
returned  by  the  Marquis,  Le  Capitaine  van- 
ished as  quickly  as  he  had  come. 

With  a  muttered  order,  the  Marquis  and 
his  followers  started  silently  over  the  route 
to  the  causeway.  The  night  was  dark  and 
brooding,  the  moon  having  failed  to  make  its 
appearance,  yet  the  balmy  sweetness  of  the  air 
betokened  rest  and  quiet  not  to  be  disturbed. 
Something  of  its  peacefulness  stole  over  the 
Marquis  and  filled  him  with  a  steadiness  he 
had  never  before  experienced.  What  his 
intention  was  he  could  not  have  told,  yet  his 
mind  was  clear  and  he  calmly  awaited  what- 
ever events  the  situation  might  bring  forth. 
That  there  was  every  chance  of  death  before 
him  held  no  terrors,  for,  at  least  it  would  be 
in  a  good  cause — not  identical  with  that  of 
Le  Capitaine 's,  however, — and  even  that 
were  preferable  to  Spain  and  exile,  or  the 
other  course,  the  King's  alternative. 

As  the  riders  reached  the  gloomy  rendez- 
vous, the  signal  of  the  Marquis  was  not 
needed  before  they  had  taken  their  respective 
positions.  In  silence  they  waited;  suddenly  a 
nervous  attitude  of  attention  heralded  the 
expected  approach.  Down  the  causeway  came 
a  dull  clatter  of  hoofs  mingling  with  the  low 
rumbling  of  a  coach. 


94  At  the  King's  Pleasure 

"Halt!" 

As  the  order  rang  out  sharply  there  came  as 
reply  a  gun-shot  from  an  attendant  as  he 
sprang  from  his  station  and  took  his  place 
beside  the  vehicle.  One  of  the  Marquis's 
followers,  severely  wounded,  fell  from  his 
horse.  The  next  moment  a  woman's  voice 
broke  the  silence  as  the  attacking  party  sur- 
rounded the  carriage. 

"Jean,  we  are  beset?"  It  was  half  cry, 
half  question. 

The  Marquis  flashed  his  lantern  in  the 
direction  of  the  speaker,  and  looked  into  a 
face  defiant  in  its  despair,  yet  made  only  the 
more  beautiful  because  of  it.  Wherein  its 
beauty  lay  he  could  not  have  told,  but  that 
its  charm  was  potent  was  his  only  knowledge. 
The  picture  sank  deep  into  his  heart,  there  to 
remain  through  all  his  days. 

"So  you  are  the  leader  of  this  attack  upon 
a  woman!"  she  cried  scornfully. 

Her  words  brought  him  back  sharply  from 
the  dreams  she  had  awakened.  With  only 
one  definite  thought  in  mind,  he  sprang  to  her 
side  saying  in  a  low  voice: 

"Mademoiselle  mistakes,  I  came  to  rescue. " 

Maddened  by  her  scorn,  thrilling  beneath 
the  spell  of  her  personality,  he  knew  but  one 
way  to  prove  his  loyalty.  Strength  came  to 
him  as  from  an  unseen  power,  and  he  lunged 


The  Meeting  95 

savagely  at  his  erstwhile  friends,  while  they 
pressed  eagerly  forward  to  gaze  upon  this 
much-talked-of  champion  of  the  King 's  cause. 

"Stand  back!"  he  warned. 

There  was  no  mistaking  his  motives  now, 
and  with  loud  oaths  his  followers  came  at  him, 
hissing  and  mad  with  rage  at  his  treachery. 

"Ah,  but  Monsieur  is  clever!"  breathed  a 
low  voice  in  his  ear. 

The  Marquis  turned  slightly  to  see  the  man 
whom  Mademoiselle  had  addressed  as  Jean,  so 
valiantly  aiding  his  defense  and  with  such 
coolness  and  skill  that  not  only  his  admiration 
was  aroused,  but  he  was  given  new  hope;  yet 
the  struggle  was  indeed  unequal.  Two  against 
three,  and  those  three  numbered  amongst  the 
most  famous  swordsmen  and  duelists  in  Paris. 
Could  they  do  it?  The  question  repeated 
itself  in  the  Marquis's  mind,  so  tense  was 
he  with  excitement.  His  arm  was  weary,  his 
eyes  scorching  with  looking,  when — ah — but 
the  fellow  was  a  faithful  knave! — his  friend 
of  the  early  evening  deftly  and  innocently 
tripped  the  stronger  adversary  and  then  so 
tired  was  he  that  he  staggered,  apparently 
exhausted.  As  the  Marquis  without  difficulty 
threw  him  and  bent  to  press  his  hand  in  silent 
acknowledgement  of  his  aid,  the  man  whisper- 
ed: 

"Bravo,    Monsieur    the    Marquis!     I    am 


96  At  the  King'Sj[Pleasure 

proud  of  thee  for  this  night's  rescue.  Now 
get  thee  gone  quickly  while  I  keep  busy  these 
villains.  I  must  not  seem  to  aid  thee  or  my 
life  be  forfeit.  Away,  and  may  good  luck 
attend  thee  and  the  lady!" 

Sore  puzzled  yet  thrilling  strangely  at  the 
thought  of  this  brave  fellow 's  friendship,  the 
Marquis  turned  again  to  the  coach,  motioning 
the  attendant  to  drive  on. 

"Will  Mademoiselle  allow  me  to  ride 
beside  her  till  she  is  beyond  danger  of  further 
trouble?"  he  inquired,  gently. 

"Monsieur,"  she  said,  impulsively,  her 
voice  trembling  with  excitement  and  emotion; 
and  as  her  eyes  met  his  it  seemed  to  him  that 
he  had  found  at  last  that  for  which  he  had 
long  been  seeking,  "forgive  my  hasty  suspi- 
cion; surely  it  was  but  natural.  Ah,  but  your 
rescue  was  noble !  I  cannot  thank  you  proper- 
ly. For  myself  I  do  not  care  so  much,  but  I 
guard  the  honor  of  two  people — the  King's 
and  my  cousin's.  How  Le  Capitaine  dis- 
covered it  I  cannot  guess,  for  these  men  must 
surely  be  his  followers.  I  did  not  dream  of 
molestation  here  and  now,  yet  my  carelessness 
has  endangered  others  than  myself.  I  would 
that  I  could  express  all  of  my  gratitude. " 

The  carriage  which  had  been  driven  rapidly 
now  came  to  a  halt  at  the  border  of  the 
province. 


The  Meeting  97 

"Mademoiselle,"  interposed  the  Marquis 
with  a  gesture  of  repudiation,  "I  do  not  like  to 
hear  the  word  'gratitude'  upon  your  lips. 
Surely  you  can  guess  how  much  it  means  to 
me  now  that  I  have  found  you  and  served 

you." 

He  noted  that  she  started  with  surprise  at 
his  significant  words,  and  he  continued  more 
controlledly.  "It  is  sufficient  that  it  has  been 
my  privilege  to  protect  a  wroman  if  not  to  save 
her  from  annoyance.  As  for  reward,  it  is 
enough  that  I  have  the  memory  of  one  fair 
deed  to  brighten  an  otherwise  dark  future  and 
an  unhappy  past.  I  only  hope  that  the  fates 
may  not  deny  that  you  may  arrive  at  your 
destination  in  safety,  and  that  perhaps  some 
time  I  shall  see  you  again  and  be  of  service. " 

Her  eyes  shone  with  pleasure  at  his  words 
and  now  she  guessed  something  of  the  reason 
for  his  apparently  strange  remark  and  subse- 
quent conventionality. 

"Goodbye  then,  Monsieur,  and  I  wish  you 
all  good  fortune  instead  of  the  woeful  future 
you  picture  for  yourself.  Remember,  gloomy 
forebodings  sometimes  herald  the  coming  of 
the  greatest  joy.  In  times  of  peace,  then, 
Monsieur. " 

"You  will  not  forget?"  he  questioned 
eagerly,  as  he  bent  over  her  hand,  for  a 
moment  a  great  happiness  possessing  him. 


98  At  the  King's  Pleasure 

That  he  had  no  thought  of  circumstances  or 
surroundings  save  the  fact  of  her  presence 
was  evident,  and,  realizing  this,  she  ignored 
the  touch  of  his  hand  upon  hers,  leaving  it 
passive  in  his  palm.  For  a  moment  her 
glance  met  his  frankly,  searchingly,  then 
faltered,  as  a  flush  mounted  quickly  to  her 
temples. 

"I  shall  not  forget,"  she  answered,  and  her 
voice,  always  musical,  thrilled  with  a  new 
emotion.  "Monsieur's  face  and  voice,  after 
such  a  deed,  can  not  easily  be  forgotten. " 

Then  overwhelmed  at  her  own  impetuosity 
as  well  as  his,  she  drew  back  into  the  darkness 
of  the  coach. 

The  Marquis  with  an  impulse  of  pleasure 
not  to  be  resisted,  seized  his  opportunity. 
"Ah — it  is  well,  Mademoiselle!  Pray  tell  me 
where  I  may  find  you  when  the  time  and 
circumstances  permit.  Am  I  asking  too 
much?" 

"Monsieur  has  proven  his  rank,"  she 
replied  with  charming  coquetry,  then  she 
paused  for  a  second,  before  she  continued  in 
a  lowered  tone  of  surpassing  sweetness.  She 
spoke  so  softly  that  he  was  forced  to  stoop 
that  he  might  hear,  and  a  strand  of  her  hair 
brushed  his  cheek.  As  he  glanced  at  her— 
was  he  mistaken? — her  face  had  crimsoned 
from  the  fact. 


The  Meeting  99 

"In  the  Province  of  LeRoi, "  she  said, 
"there  is  a  chateau  that  stands  on  a  hill. 
'Tis  the  only  one  of  its  kind.  Over  half  the 
Province  it  looks,  and,  best  of  all,  a  charm 
none  ottter  possesses,  it  views  the  blue  ranges 
of  Spain." 

"Ah!"  he  faltered,  as  she  laid  her  hand  in 
his. 

"Drive  on,  Jean,"  she  called  to  her  servant, 
and  as  the  carriage  moved  by,  the  Marquis 
stood  with  uncovered  head,  gazing  after  a 
pale,  sweet  face  in  a  window-pane,  and 
dreaming  of  that  last  lingering  glance. 

"So,  Monsieur,"  spoke  a  light  voice,  "that 
is  the  solution. " 

The  Marquis  wheeled  abruptly  as  his 
reverie  was  thus  ruthlessly  disturbed.  He 
confronted  Le  Capitaine  and  his  followers, 
among  them  his  acquaintance  of  the  early 
evening.  He  stared  at  them  in  silence,  won- 
dering vaguely  why  they  did  not  pursue 
Mademoiselle.  Then  as  suddenly  his  thoughts 
returned  to  this  man  who  had  done  him  a 
right  good  turn,  a  faithful  fellow.  He  would 
reward  him.  How?  Ah! — The  blue  hills  of 
Spain — exile !  What  was  he  to  dream  dreams, 
to  enter  a  fool's  paradise?  Exile  was  his  lot. 
Exile?  Nay,  these  men  had  come  to  arrest 
him  for  rescuing  Mademoiselle.  Death  was 
his  portion,  after  all.  And  the  chateau?  He 


100  At  the  King's  Pleasure 

would  never  see  it.  He  felt  strangely  dizzy. 
Could  he  be  ill?  Nay,  that  could  not  be. 
Then  he  was  shot  for  treason,  dying.  Ah, 
yes — the  Marquis  de  Monterrat.  The  blue 
hills  of  Spain. 

In  a  swoon  he  fell  at  his  companions'  feet. 


CHAPTER  VII 
A  Question  of  Honor 

When  the  newly-made  Marquis  de  Monter- 
rat  regained  consciousness,  it  was  to  find  him- 
self in  a  small  dark  room  smelling  strangely 
of  dampness.  By  his  side  sat  his  comrade  of 
the  previous  evening. 

"Ha!"  he  cried,  sitting  up  in  vigorous 
protest.  "Who  are  you,  my  friend?  And 
what  does  this  mean  that  I  am  in  bed  when 
the  sun  is  full  abroad?" 

"Monsieur  the  Marquis  is  wounded.  Nay, 
nay,  Monsieur" — as  the  other  made  a  move- 
ment to  arise—  "thou  must  not  stir  about. 
Thou  art  wounded  sore. " 

"Wounded  is  it,  my  fine  fellow?  Sacre, 
methought  I  would  awake  this  morning  in 
another  world.  I  remember  now  the  where- 
withal of  this  adventure.  So  Le  Capitaine 
did  not  hang  me  on  the  spot.  It  were  a 
miracle!"  His  usual  merry  mockery  had 
returned  with  the  light  of  day,  and  the  other 
looked  upon  him  in  wondering  admiration. 

"Perchance  he  is  but  fattening  me  for 
101 


102  At  the  King's  Pleasure 

future  sacrifice.  So?  I  care  not.  But  you, 
Monsieur,  who  may  you  be?  You  played 
me  well  last  night.  But  for  you,  Mademoiselle 
— ,"  he  faltered,  and  his  carefree  face  darkened 
in  passing  horror. 

"Monsieur  has  no  fever?"  questioned  his 
comrade  anxiously,  as  he  leaned  over  him. 
"Surely  thou  must  be  wandering,  my  lord, 
not  to  know  that  it  is  Du  Jeuille  who  is  talking 
with  thee!  When  they  captured  thee,  Mon- 
sieur, I  tried  to  aid  thee,  but  in  vain,  and  they 
brought  thee  to  this  hole. " 

"From  which  I  shall  shortly  find  myself 
led  forth  into  another,  dug  six  feet  deep,  is  it 
not  so?"  laughed  the  Marquis. 

Du  Jeuille  nodded. 

"Well,  well,  my  friend,  do  not  look  so  glum 
about  it.  We  all  must  die,  and  death  is 
better  than  some  alternatives,  n'est-ce  pas? 
But  tell  me,  Mademoiselle  is  safe?" 

"Thanks  to  thy  gallantry,  Marquis.  And 
she  was  not  pursued,  as  perhaps  thou  hast 
supposed.  Moreover,  Marquis,  I  owe  thee 
an  apology  on  that  score.  When  I  spoke  so 
plainly  last  night  about  thee — or  rather  about 
love,  I  did  not  know  that  thou  didst  under- 
stand its  meaning. "  He  hesitated. 

The  Marquis  smiled  happily,  and  his  face 
shone  with  a  sweetness  at  variance  with  his 
former  mockery.  "Nor  did  I,  mon  ami/' 


A  Question  of  Honor  103 

murmured  he,  then  added  thoughtfully,  "Du 
Jeuille,  c'estbien."  In  a  moment  he  had 
fallen  peacefully  asleep,  his  hand  resting  on 
his  companion's  arm. 

"Dieu!"  muttered  Du  Jeuille,  as  he  looked 
with  dimmed  eye  on  his  sleeping  friend,  "wow 
Dieu!  If  I  don't  like  the  fellow,  and  until 
tonight  I  never  found  a  lovable  trait.  The 
Marquis  de  Monterrat,  card-player,  gambler, 
with  his  passion  for  wine  and  women,  to  turn 
gallant  in  the  face  of  his  avowed  friendliness 
for  Le  Capitaine!  How  little  we  know  our 
comrades!  'Tis  dangers  prove  the  man. 
Who'd  have  thought  that  the  Marquis  de 
Monterrat,  figured  in  a  dozen  scandals,  would 
have  rescued  Mademoiselle  LeRoi,  cousin  to 
his  worst  enemy,  and  to  a  man  he  has  threat- 
ened to  kill  on  sight !  As  for  the  papers — ma 
foi!  but  it  is  a  riddle  for  the  gods!  And  his 
face!  In  faith  he  is  a  handsome  man,  not  the 
dissipated  noble  I  had  thought  to  find,  and 
far  younger  appearing  than  I  had  supposed 
the  Marquis  to  be. " 

Thus  ruminating,  he  was  startled  when  the 
door  was  pushed  open  with  a  crash  and  Le 
Capitaine  entered.  Du  Jeuille  saluted.  A 
moment  his  master  regarded  him,  then  re- 
marked drily: 

"So  Monsieur  the  Marquis  still  sleeps. 
Has  he  awakened  at  all?" 


104  At  the  King's  Pleasure 

"Once,  Monsieur." 

"And  how  appeared  he?" 

"A  little  confused  in  mind  it  seemed  to  me. " 

"So?  Do  you  think  he  will  be  fit  to  travel 
by  tomorrow?  I  have  a  journey  for  him. 
Monsieur  Du  Jeuille  seems  surprised.  Well, 
I  have  decided  to  postpone  the  Marquis's 
death  for  awhile.  I  have  a  service  for  him  to 
render.  He  is  just  the  man.  He  is  brave 
— too  much  so  at  times — and  then  it  is  a  jest; 
Le  Capitaine  can  have  his  jest  sometimes, 
n  'est-ce  pas?  "  For  a  moment  he  strode  up  and 
down  the  room,  then  continued  abruptly  with 
ironical  glance  at  Du  Jeuille. 

"  Today  the  King  gives  his  decision.  Today 
will  see  whether  France  will  or  will  not  be  in 
revolution.  Shall  the  Prince  or  my  Lord 
D'Antaurier  wed  the  Princess  Helene?  I 
think  neither." 

The  last  word  uttered  with  added  incisive- 
ness  seemed  a  climax  to  the  clear-cut  method 
of  his  whole  speech.  He  watched  with  plea- 
sure the  look  of  mingled  fear  and  surprise 
in  Du  Jeuille 's  face.  "You  wish  to  know 
why?  Firstly,  then,  Mademoiselle  started 
last  night  on  her  return  to  the  chateau,  with- 
out accomplishing  her  mission.  The  papers 
are  still  in  her  possession  and  without  them 
D'Antaurier  is  powerless.  The  outcome  is 
obvious, — he  must  concoct  some  new  plan  to 


A  Question  of  Honor  105 

gain  his  end,  and  we  are  given  respite.  Second- 
ly, the  Prince — well,  he  will  not  marry  the 
Princess  at  present;  as  he  has  disappeared. 
He  has  gone  into  exile.  How  much  he  must 
have  loved  the  Princess!  The  castle  is  in 
uproar,  despite  the  efforts  of  diplomats  to 
hush  up  the  matter.  He  and  his  clever  cousin, 
the  King,  could  not  agree.  White  with  rage, 
he  left  the  King's  presence  and  has  not  been 
seen  since.  How  he  managed  to  elude  his 
companions  is  a  mystery,  but  it  remains  that 
he  and  the  jewels  given  him  by  the  Queen,  his 
godmother,  are  missing.  He  has  doubtless 
gone  to  Spain.  And  now  we  must  to  our  work. 
This  respite  has  saved  De  Monterrat's  life. 
It  is  lucky  for  him,  therefore,  that  the  Prince 
has  a  mind  of  his  own.  With  the  prospective 
bride-groom  a  runaway,  it  would  be  the 
height  of  folly  to  ask  the  King  to  annul  his 
written  consent  to  the  marriage  of  the  Princess 
to  D  'Antaurier.  We  must  wait  till  we  learn 
the  whereabouts  of  the  Prince,  and  meanwhile 
try  to  get  possession  of  this  document,  before 
forcing  the  King's  hand.  But  this  other 
affair — pardons  to  exiles — there  is  an  oppor- 
tunity for  compelling  him  to  an  immediate 
quarrel,  and  gaining  our  ends.  Now  then, 
Du  Jeuille,  how  soon  can  the  Marquis  travel, 
think  you?" 

"To  a  better  world,  mean  you,  Capitaine?" 


106  At  the  King's  Pleasure 

broke  in  a  merry  voice  as  the  sleeper's  eyes 
opened  and  fastened  upon  his  captor's  face. 
"At  once,  I  think." 

But  although  the  wounded  man  spoke 
mockingly,  he  was  staring  wide-eyed  at  Le 
Capitaine,  and  a  strange  thought  had  sprung 
up  in  his  mind  as  he  looked  for  the  first  time 
upon  this  mysterious  leader. 

" Sacre!  So  you  are  awake!  Ye  gods,  but 
I  could  tear  you  limb  from  limb  for  the  part 
you  played  last  night !  To  see  you  hang  would 
be  a  pleasure,  yet  because  you  have  served 
me  well  before,  I  must  overlook  this  treachery 
provided  you  are  willing  to  atone.  If  not, 
ma  foi!  but  you  shall  pay,  Monsieur  Le 
Marquis,  and  that  in  short  order!  Not  by 
death — as  yet — but  by  undertaking  a  mission 
which  if  not  successfully  accomplished  means 
death  to  you. " 

Le  Capitaine 's  easy  cynicism  had  given  way 
to  an  anger  almost  apoplectic,  but  the  other 
hardly  heeded  his  ranting.  He  was  puzzling 
over  the  wonder  that  had  come  to  pass.  This 
man  before  him  was  a  perfect  reproduction, 
except  in  being  far  younger,  of  him  by  whose 
name  they  called  himself — the  Marquis  de 
Monterrat — and  this  fact  was  leading  to 
marvelous  conjectures.  The  long,  thin,  sharp 
face  was  identical  with  that  of  the  traitor  so 
despised  at  the  King's  court.  The  air  of 


A  Question  of  Honor  107 

defiant  bravado,  the  sarcasm  and  harshness 
in  his  dry  tones,  both  served  as  reminders 
unpleasantly  vivid,  of  one  who  once  basked 
in  the  King's  favor.  Only  one  difference  did 
there  seem  to  be  except  in  so  much  as  youth 
and  age  could  differ.  In  place  of  the  expression 
of  unrestrained  pleasure-seeking,  the  expres- 
sion of  a  worn  roue,  which  characterized  the 
aged  Marquis,  there  was  here  a  strength  and 
power  which  showed  in  a  certain  undefined 
look  of  hatred,  of  baffled  suffering,  of  almost 
unacknowledged  vengeance.  There  lurked  a 
sadness  in  the  deep-set  eyes  which  belied  the 
anger  now  threatening  them.  It  was  as  if 
some  cruel  blow  of  fortune  or  some  sorrow 
had  turned  a  naturally  generous  character  to 
one  of  sullen  discontent  which  showed  in 
bitterness  toward  all  mankind. 

Even  as  he  noted  these  points  of  resemblance 
and  difference  there  flashed  into  the  prisoner 's 
mind  the  remembrance  of  a  recent  statement 
he  had  heard  that  the  Marquis  de  Monterrat 
had  never  allowed  Le  Capitaine  to  see  his 
face.  Was  there,  then,  a  good  and  sufficient 
reason  for  this  so-called  eccentricity? 

But  Le  Capitaine  was  continuing,  and  this 
time  his  prisoner  gave  him  heed. 

"None  has  a  better  right  to  repair  this 
mischief  you  have  caused.  Perhaps  Monsieur 
will  like  the  task  I  shall  set  him.  It  takes 


108  At  the  King's  Pleasure 

him  into  the  Province  of  LeRoi,  well  deserving 
of  its  name,  a  very  hornet 's  nest  of  the  King 's 
party —  He  smirked  sarcastically,  then  his 
expression  changed  to  surprise,  for  the  prisoner 
had  given  no  heed  to  his  slur,  and  had  not  even 
changed  countenance  at  the  implied  accusa- 
tion. 

"There  are  many  things  I  must  find  out 
there,"  he  continued  briskly.  "I  need  a 
brave  man  to  fathom  them.  Monsieur  de 
Monterrat  has  proven  his  right  to  that  title 
in  this  deed  of  treachery.  Another  man 
would  have  swung  for  such  misplaced  daring. 
There  are  some  documents  we  need,  papers 
signed  by  certain  men,  chiefly  the  King, 
promising  to  aid  a  few  exiles  in  Spain.  With 
these  in  our  possession  to  wave  in  His  Royal 
Highness 's  face  in  proof  that  he  protects 
those  whom  he  has  promised  his  people  that 
he  would  drop  from  favor,  we  can  bring  him 
to  terms,  unless  I  am  very  much  mistaken. 
These  papers  Monsieur  the  Marquis  will  bring 
me.  If  he  fails,  because  of  his  disloyalty,  a 
pistol-shot  is  the  penalty.  My  spies  shall  see 
how  faithful  he  be.  What  does  the  Marquis 
say,  death  tomorrow  or  will  he  undertake 
the  mission?" 

"Then  my  grave  is  not  dug!"  mocked  the 
Marquis. 

"Dug,  but  not  filled,  Monsieur,"  retorted 
Le  Capitaine,  grimly. 


A  Question  of  Honor  109 

"There  is  hope,  then.  I  may  be  able  to 
prevail  upon  some  other  to  take  my  place  in 
occupying  it.  You  are  about  my  size,  Capi- 
taine. " 

Le  Capitaine  laughed  at  his  jeer.  "Well?" 
he  demanded. 

"One  question.  If  I  refuse  to  undertake 
this  mission,  I  die  for  my  deed  of  last  night?" 

"Exactly." 

"Then  I  am  to  turn  spy.  One  more  ques- 
tion, Monsieur.  Is  it  upon  the  Province  in 
general,  or  upon  one  household?" 

"Your  shrewdness  does  me  credit  in  my 
choice  of  messengers.  I  cannot  say  absolutely. 
Someone  in  the  province  has  undoubtedly 
taken  charge  of  these  papers.  It  is  for  you, 
Monsieur,  to  discover  who  this  guardian  of 
the  King's  documents  may  be,  and  to  obtain 
possession  of  them." 

Swiftly  the  Marquis  reviewed  the  events 
of  the  past  few  years  of  his  life,  of  his  faithful 
service  to  the  King,  of  his  suddenly  acquired 
knowledge  of  the  rashness  of  his  methods,  of 
his  growing  unhappiness  and  suspicions,  of 
his  desire  for  better  and  higher  aim  in  life 
than  animated  the  King's  court,  and  finally 
of  the  last  great  step  in  which  he  had  ruthlessly 
flung  aside  all  restraint  and  chosen  the  path 
which  did  not  lead  to  realms  of  court.  As  he 
realized  the  meaning  of  Le  Capitaine 's  offer 


110  At  the  King's  Pleasure 

he  wavered,  but  only  for  a  moment.  A  spy? 
It  was  not  spying  when  one  had  deserted  the 
old  life  for  the  new.  There  was  no  reason 
why  that  new  life  should  not  be  given  over 
to  one  service  as  well  as  to  another.  He  not 
only  could  not  turn  back  now,  but  he  did  not 
desire  to.  He  had  elected  to  play  another 
man 's  part,  and  the  merry  farce  should  go  on. 
Behind  him  lay  death  or  dishonor.  Before 
him  lay — what?  Dishonor?  Mayhap,  and 
yet  in  his  heart  he  felt  that  he  held  the  key  to 
Le  Capitaine's  identity,  which  knowledge,  if 
put  to  the  right  use,  could  accomplish  many 
purposes.  As  for  his  threats — might  not 
death  be  preferable  to  a  life  of  bitter  sacrifice? 
Moreover — and  a  light  leaped  to  his  eyes 
—somewhere  "in  the  Province  of  LeRoi  a 
chateau"  overlooked  "the  blue  hills  of  Spain!" 
Its  influence  upon  his  life  was  only  beginning 
to  be  felt. 

"Very  well,  Capitaine,  I  start  tomorrow," 
he  agreed  grimly. 

Le  Capitaine  eyed  him  keenly.  "Remem- 
ber, Marquis,  death  is  the  penalty  for  treach- 
ery. Once  you  have  escaped  because  a  Prince 
has  given  a  short  reprieval.  Again  it  will 
not  be  so.  Tomorrow  I  shall  give  you 
written  instructions.  Adieu,  then,  for  the 
moment. " 

The    door    had    hardly    closed,    when    the 


A  Question  of  Honor  111 

Marquis,  utterly  wearied,  murmured  sleepily, 
"LeRoi — I  am  glad.  Perhaps  I—  "  he  dozed. 
Du  Jeuille  beside  him,  seeing  the  smile  on 
his  lips  as  he  slept,  sighed  and  smiled  simul- 
taneously, and  his  own  thoughts  flew  to  a  fair 
lady's  side,  a  lady  far  over  the  border  in  Spain. 


CHAPTER  VIII 
The  Journey's  End 

The  following  day  De  Monterrat  set  out 
upon  his  journey,  carrying  with  him  written 
instructions  of  which  he  was  to  break  the  seal 
on  arriving  at  LeRoi.  The  ride  was  long  and 
tiresome;  the  Marquis,  hardly  recovered  from 
his  wound,  was  much  wearied  as  the  end  of 
the  road  was  reached.  At  the  foot  of  the  hill 
which  he  must  climb  to  enter  LeRoi,  he  brought 
his  tired  horse  to  a  stand,  and  then  fell  into  a 
gloomy  reverie.  The  long,  dreary  ride  had 
wrought  upon  his  nerves  and  upon  his  hope- 
fulness. All  the  buoyancy  which  had  upheld 
him  since  his  interview  with  Le  Capitaine 
deserted  him  before  the  arduous  trip.  What 
he  had  viewed  so  cheerfully  and  merrily 
seemed  now  the  height  of  folly  and  treachery. 
He  smiled  mockingly  at  the  deception  he  had 
practised  upon  himself  in  persuading  his  mind 
to  dwell  upon  the  discovery  he  had  thought 
he  had  made.  That  there  could  be  any  truth 
in  it  appeared  now  the  madness  of  delirium, 
and  he  derided  his  own  credulity  and  vanity 

112 


The  Journey 's  End  1 13 

which  had  so  misled  him.  His  wound  was 
paining  him  severely,  and  altogether  he  could 
bring  himself  to  do  no  more  than  utter  curses 
upon  himself  for  his  foolhardiness.  Moreover, 
his  heart  had  awakened  to  the  whole  import 
of  the  course  he  had  so  recklessly  pursued. 

In  the  last  town  through  which  he  had 
passed  hardly  an  hour  before,  he  had  come 
face  to  face  with  Monsieur  Beaumon  and  Lord 
DeChatton.  They  had  not  recognized  him, 
his  hood  being  drawn  over  his  face,  nor,  in 
fact,  had  they  even  glanced  at  him,  so  hurried 
were  they  on  their  journey — no  doubt  in  the 
King's  service,  thought  the  Marquis  bitterly. 
At  sight  of  them  he  had  almost  cried  out  in 
joyous  recognition,  so  long  did  it  seem  since 
he  had  looked  upon  their  kindly  faces  and 
felt  their  hearty  grasp  of  friendship.  Were 
they  looking  for  him,  perchance?  The  thought 
had  unnerved  him,  and  now  he  longed  for 
those  happy,  carefree  days  which  had  been 
his  in  the  past;  a  past  which  seemed  centuries 
ago,  and  as  unreal  as  those  centuries  would 
necessarily  be.  Questions  arose  in  his  mind 
as  to  this  task  which  he  had  undertaken. 
The  dangers  which  threatened  him  on  all 
sides  need  not  be  faced,  for  it  might  not  yet  be 
too  late  to  depart  from  France,  and  now  it 
did  not  seem  the  part  of  wisdom  to  remain. 
As  he  recalled  the  expression  on  Le  Capitaine  's 


114  At  the  King's  Pleasure 

face  when  he  had  handed  him  the  packet,  he 
wondered  what  secret  instructions  it  bore. 
He  had  not  liked  his  manner  even  then,  when 
he  had  been  in  the  throes  of  that  mad  confi- 
dence in  his  powers  of  discernment  and  accom- 
plishment, so  that  he  had  deliberately  defied 
the  warning  his  better  sense  had  tried  to  give 
him.  He  marvelled  now  at  the  madness 
which  had  possessed  him  that  he  had  ignored 
his  suspicions,  and  had  obeyed  Le  Capitaine's 
commands  as  to  opening  the  packet.  He 
realized  for  the  first  time  how  fully  he  had  been 
a  puppet  in  a  villain's  power,  and  how  care- 
lessly he  had  fallen  into  the  trap,  as  though 
he  had  been  a  child  of  three.  The  thought 
that  Le  Capitaine  was  now  no  doubt  laughing 
at  his  prisoner's  innocence  only  increased  his 
anger  and  self  reproach.  In  a  rage  of  impotent 
fury  he  tore  the  cover  from  his  instructions, 
and  in  a  moment  his  eyes  lighted  with  excite- 
ment, as  he  read: 

"You  asked  me  if  there  is  one  household  on 
which  you  should  spy.  I  evaded  the  question, 
but  in  all  the  province  there  is  one  the  most 
likely  to  hold  the  secret  we  desire.  There  you 
must  find  shelter.  You  must  gain  entrance 
by  some  ruse.  Take  any  name  and  plan  you 
choose,  but  be  sure  you  succeed.  My  men 
whom  I  send  to  report  upon  you  will  transmit 
news  of  you  to  me. 


The  Journey 's  End  115 

'This  house  to  which  I  refer  is  a  beautiful 
chateau  owned  by  the  family  for  whom  the 
province  is  named — LeRoi.  The  Due  of  Le- 
Roi  is  at  present  in  Spain — in  service  of  the 
King.  For  one  of  Monsieur  Le  Marquis's 
charms,  it  will  be  no  hard  task  to  win  the 
favor  and  confidence  of  the  mistress  of  the 
chateau — his  niece — if  he  has  not  already 
done  so.  That,  Monsieur,  is  one  reason  why 
I  entrusted  to  you  this  work.  It  has  long 
been  known  that  Monsieur  the  Marquis  likes 
nothing  better  than  to  win  a  woman's  trust, 
then  scorn  it. 

"Now,  Marquis,  is  your  opportunity  to 
exercise  those  arts  for  which  you  are  famed, 
and  to  win  the  thanks  and  praise  of  Le  Capi- 
taine,  and  of  all  his  followers.  Do  your  best. 
If  Monsieur  thinks  to  evade  my  watch,  he 
much  mistakes,  and  if  any  feeling  of  gallantry 
again  bids  him  betray  me,  or  to  escape  this 
task  by  leaving  for  Spain,  I  can  tell  him  now 
it  is  useless.  My  men  have  orders  to  bring 
the  Marquis  back,  alive,  if  possible,  a  corpse, 
if  necessary.  The  grave  is  dug!  Now,  me- 
thinks,  De  Monterrat  knows  with  what  manner 
of  man  he  is  dealing.  Wishing  all  and  speedy 
success,  Le  Capitaine. " 

The  Marquis  bowed  his  head  in  despair. 
It  was  too  late.  Even  Spain  was  denied  him, 
and  he  must  spy  upon  a  woman.  Spy?  Nay, 


116  At  the  King's  Pleasure 

he  served  the  King  no  longer.  And  then  his 
heart  leaped  within  him.  At  least  he  would 
be  near  Mademoiselle,  and  could,  perchance, 
be  of  service  to  her.  Mademoiselle!  How 
quaint  it  seemed  to  speak  thus  of  the  woman 
he  had  found  so  mysteriously  and  unexpected- 
ly! He  had  little  dreamed  that  when  he 
found  her  it  would  be  in  this  manner,  and  even 
in  ignorance  of  her  name.  A  passing  thought 
of  Marguerite  came  to  him,  and  he  smiled 
tenderly.  Her  influence  upon  his  life  had 
been  for  wondrous  good — but  that  was  all. 
He  would  like  to  see  her  again.  He  hoped 
that  some  time  he  would,  and  then  he  won- 
dered if  she  gave  him  a  thought  in  his  wander- 
ings, or  pondered  as  to  his  present  whereabouts. 

The  memory  of  her,  strangely  enough, 
brought  to  his  mind  his  conjectures  concerning 
the  identity  of  Le  Capitaine,  and  on  the 
instant  he  resolved  to  cling  to  his  poor,  faulty 
theory  and  to  follow  it  to  some  end,  however 
disappointing.  That  at  least  would  give  him 
a  motive  for  remaining  in  France,  since  he  was 
to  be  in  all  other  matters  a  slave  of  Le  Capi- 
taine 's,  as  well  as  satisfy  himself  that  he  had 
left  no  path  unexplored.  And — Mademoi- 
selle— ! 

He  raised  his  head  defiantly,  and  spoke  to 
his  horse  to  continue  on  his  way.  Le  Capi- 
taine had  paid  him  a  pretty  compliment,  truly, 


The  Journey's  End  117 

when  he  suggested  the  method  by  which  he 
should  gain  Mademoiselle  LeRoi  's  confidence ! 
It  explained  the  reputation  of  the  real  Marquis 
de  Monterrat.  He  had  not  expected  to  have 
the  role  of  beau  gallant  thrust  upon  him  when 
he  had  robbed  the  other  of  his  name  and  title. 
What  he  had  guessed  from  Du  Jeuille's 
insinuations  concerning  De  Monterrat  was 
more  than  confirmed  by  Le  Capitaine.  His 
contempt  for  the  Marquis,  always  great, 
increased. 

"So,  Monsieur  the  Marquis,"  he  muttered, 
"this  is  your  method  of  life.  Perchance  in 
the  course  of  the  next  few  months  we  can 
infuse  a  little,  a  very  little,  decency  into  your 
character.  In  faith,  it  will  be  worth  the  risk 
if  I  can  persuade  your  acquaintances  to  think 
that  you  have  reformed,  and  that  you  possess 
a  few  attributes  of  the  gentleman.  And  the 
first  stroke  to  that  end  will  be — ?  Ma  foil 
It  is  a  puzzle  when  one  finds  so  many  slimy 
pools  to  swim." 

At  this  moment  a  carriage  swept  by,  and 
the  Marquis,  hastily  uncovering  his  head, 
stood  aside  for  it  to  pass.  He  caught  a  glimpse 
of  a  woman's  face  in  the  window,  and  his 
hand  trembled  and  clutched  closer  the  bridle 
as  he  leaned  eagerly  forward  over  his  horse's 
neck.  He  watched  the  coach  disappear  in  a 
cloud  of  dust.  Still  wkh  hat  in  hand,  he  sat 


118  At  the  King's  Pleasure 

staring  stupidly  into  space,  asking  himself  if 
his  dreams  of  Mademoiselle  had  turned  his 
reason. 

Slowly  he  continued  on  his  way,  his  mind 
filled  with  various  conflicting  thoughts;  his 
heart  now  in  despair,  now  hoping,  yet  ever  in 
tumult.  As  he  entered  the  village,  the  lights 
flashed,  for  the  sun  had  been  set  some  time, 
and  it  was  too  late  to  do  more  than  find  lodging 
for  the  night. 

Thankful  for  the  enforced  delay,  he  made 
his  way  to  the  village  inn,  where  his  uniform 
and  his  face,  but  still  more,  the  sight  of  a  gold 
piece,  gained  him  immediate  and  most  reverent 
attention.  Utterly  wearied,  yet  dreading  the 
night,  he  finished  a  light  repast  and  retired  to 
his  room.  Here  a  thousand  fears  assailed  him 
in  his  sleep,  in  which  Le  Capitaine's  threats 
and  quarrels  with  his  spies  mingled  with  the 
memory  of  his  rescue  of  the  woman  he  loved. 

On  the  morrow  he  awakened  still  troubled 
in  mind,  but  the  bright  sunshine  brought 
something  of  courage  to  his  heart,  and  it  was 
with  cheerful  smile  and  care-free  air  that  he 
questioned  his  host,  as  he  ate  a  more  hearty 
meal  than  on  the  previous  evening. 

Equipped  with  the  knowledge  his  landlord 
had  been  very  willing  to  impart,  he  set  out  on 
horseback  on  a  tour  of  the  country. 

The  Province  of  LeRoi  is  one  of  the  most 


The  Journey's  End  119 

beautiful  in  France,  and  on  this  morning  it 
seemed  to  have  donned  its  rarest  charms.  As 
the  Marquis  rode  along,  the  sweet  fresh  air, 
the  fragrance  of  flowers,  the  sparkle  and  mur- 
mur of  brooks,  the  clouds  in  the  blue  summer 
sky,  seemed  all  combined  to  make  him  forget 
his  fears  and  forebodings,  to  impress  upon 
him  the  joy  of  living,  and  to  make  Mademoi- 
selle appear  more  tangible,  and  not  a  dream 
that  exile  in  Spain  could  destroy.  Hardly 
noting  the  direction  in  which  he  was  traveling, 
yet  with  an  unadmitted  purpose  vaguely 
guiding  him,  he  climbed  the  high  hill,  half-way 
up  which  the  little  village  was  located.  At 
the  top  he  paused  with  an  exclamation  of 
delight  and  admiration  as  a  view  of  the  whole 
country  was  spread  before  him.  In  the 
distance  he  could  distinguish  a  mere  cluster 
of  roofs  which  he  knew  to  be  Toulouse;  below 
lay  the  valley  through  which  he  had  yesterday 
traveled,  and — ah!  behind  him — he  wheeled 
—the  blue  hills  of  Spain! 

For  a  moment  he  sat  speechless  with  sur- 
prise, his  thoughts  in  tumult,  then  with 
bounding  pulse  he  realized  the  full  meaning 
of  his  whereabouts.  He  urged  his  horse 
forward  with  his  spurs.  Eagerly,  yet  also 
with  a  strange  dread,  he  rode  onward,  peering 
to  right  and  left,  and  all  the  while  his  heart 
was  singing  to  the  glad  refrain :  "  The  chateau !" 


120  At  the  King's  Pleasure 

Suddenly  the  clatter  of  horse 's  hoofs  reached 
his  ear.  As  the  sound  drew  nearer,  he  reined 
in  his  steed,  and,  as  on  the  previous  day,  drew 
aside  for  a  carriage  to  pass.  On  it  came;  it 
was  beside  him,  and  he  saw  within  a  face  that 
he  knew  full  well.  The  coach  swept  past,  and 
before  he  could  recover  from  his  emotion  it 
stopped,  and  a  man  whom  he  recognized  came 
running  toward  him.  It  was  Jean,  and  he 
brought  a  message  to  "Monsieur."  "Mad- 
emoiselle was  in  the  carriage  waiting  to  speak 
to  him  if  he  cared  to  return."  If  he  cared! 
The  next  moment  he  held  her  hand,  and  once 
more  looked  into  eyes  he  had  seen  in  dreams 
and  delirium  for  a  month  it  seemed  to  him. 

"I  saw  Monsieur  yesterday,  but  waited  to 
be  sure.  The  darkness  sometimes  plays  one 
tricks."  She  smiled  as  she  alluded  to  their 
former  meeting.  "But  Jean  was  positive  and 
so  today  I  dared  to  be  so  bold—  "  she  faltered. 

"I  was  looking  for  the  chateau,  Mademoi- 
selle. I  arrived  but  last  evening,  too  late  to 
attempt  any  quest."  He  seemed  to  excuse 
his  tardiness. 

"Ah,  then,  doubtless  Monsieur  would  like 
to  continue  on  his  way,  and  I  am  detaining 
him." 

"Mademoiselle  is  cruel,"  responded  the 
Marquis  gravely.  "It  is  not  the  chateau, 
but  what  it  contains,  I  seek. " 


The  Journey's  End  121 

"Ah!  So  much  the  better.  Its  owner 
away,  Monsieur  would  have  opportunity  for 
an  undisturbed  examination." 

The  Marquis  bit  his  lip,  his  usual  mockery 
deserting  him. 

"Perhaps,"  he  retorted  at  last,  angry  with 
himself  for  his  unwonted  confusion,  "he 
prefers  to  enter  in  company  with  its  owner." 

Mademoiselle  laughed  merrily.  "Well 
spoken,  Monsieur — ?" 

Her  implied  query  caused  him  to  fill  in 
quickly,  "Le  Marquis  de  Beauchanson. " 

''Yes?  And  the  Marquis  is  here  on  a 
mission — in  the  good  cause — nest-ce  pas?" 

"In  the  good  cause!"  The  words  called 
up  memories  he  did  not  desire  just  then. 

''Yes,  on  a  mission,  Mademoiselle,  and  one 
of  grande  importance. " 

"Monsieur  has  friends  here?  Surely  he 
would  not  venture  into  a  strange  country,  and 
one  beset  by  dangers." 

"Dangers,  Mademoiselle?"  he  returned 
lightly.  "Methinks  you  are  jesting  with  me, 
for  all  men  dwell  amidst  dangers  in  these 
vexatious  days — unless  they  be  craven." 

"Monsieur,"  she  interrupted  hastily,  "you 
have  misunderstood  me.  I  pray  you  pardon 
me  for  the  awkward  manner  of  my  speech. 
None  could  question  Monsieur's  courage. 
Our  first  meeting  was  adequate  proof  of  its 


At  the  King's  Pleasure 

existence.  I  was  thinking  of  the  perils  which 
must  of  necessity  surround  one  where  one  has 
no  friends.  You  are  acquainted  in  the  Pro- 
vince?" 

The  Marquis  colored  with  pleasure  at  her 
praise.  "I  have  no  acquaintances  here, 
Mademoiselle,"  he  answered,  simply. 

"Ah,  then,  Monsieur  de  Beauchanson,  here 
is  opportunity  for  me  to  pay  my  debt  in  part, 
and  to  show  my  gratitude.  My  home  is  at 
your  service.  It  would  not  do  that  a  friend 
of  mine  should  look  to  an  inn  for  shelter  when 
my  hospitality  can  establish  him  in  ease,  and 
perhaps  help  him  on  his  errand,  for,  Monsieur, 
here  in  the  Province  there  are  many  suspicious 
of  strangers,  but  if  you  were  in  the  chateau, 
none  could  question  your  comings  and  goings. 
Allow  me,  Monsieur,  this  privilege?" 

She  spoke  rapidly  and  convincingly,  and 
the  Marquis's  heart  leaped  at  her  words. 
By  accepting  her  hospitality,  he  could  ignore 
Le  Capitaine's  request  that  he  seek  shelter  at 
the  chateau  de  LeRoi.  The  thought  brought 
with  it  the  more  unwelcome  one  of  the  reason 
for  his  presence  in  the  Province,  and  he  shrank 
before  the  memory.  There  was  nothing  for 
him  to  do  but  to  refuse.  At  least  he  would 
act  honorably  so  far  as  she  was  concerned, 
however  much  this  chance  meant  to  him  in 
preserving  another  point  of  honor.  Certainly 


The  Journey's  End  123 

he  owed  her  more  chivalrous  treatment  than 
he  owed  this  other  strange  woman,  the 
Mademoiselle  LeRoi. 

"Mademoiselle,"  he  responded  hurriedly, 
"your  kind  heart  forgets  all  caution.  You 
know  me  not.  Such  faith  is  rash.  It  is  only 
right  to  say  to  you  that  I  do  not  deserve  such 
friendliness  at  your  hands. " 

Something  in  his  tone  brought  a  fulness  to 
the  girl's  heart.  It  was  as  if  he  were  trying 
to  tell  her  of  a  sorrow  in  his  life,  and  the  deep, 
low  voice  was  vibrating  with  an  emotion 
which  his  conventional  words  did  not  conceal. 
To  her,  indeed,  his  sentence  had  attained  a 
meaning  which  robbed  it  of  all  formal  sound. 
'There  are  reasons,  Mademoiselle,"  he  added, 
"why  I  cannot  so  impose  upon  your  trustful- 
ness. " 

The  title  as  he  spoke  it  thrilled  with  the 
power  which  it  held  for  him,  ignorant  of  her 
name,  and  by  the  touch  of  magic  which  had 
characterized  all  their  acquaintance  she  caught 
the  subtle  note,  and  her  eyes  met  and  held 
his  with  a  sweet  candor  which  wrought  a 
spell  about  them  both. 

"Besides,"  he  continued  in  a  voice  which 
fell  with  a  pleasing  cadence,  "if  I  should  come 
under  the  pall  of  your  neighbors'  suspicions 
it  would  reflect  upon  you,  and  perchance 
prove  of  annoyance  in  many  ways,  whereas 


124  At  the  King's  Pleasure 

my  desire  is  only  to  serve  you.  I  pray  you 
not  to  misunderstand  me.  Do  not  think  I 
fail  to  appreciate,  for,  Mademoiselle,  this 
proof  of  your  faith  in  me  will  help  me  to  hold 
to  higher  aims,  and  to  keep  my  mind  unsullied, 
even  as  the  thought  of  finding  you  some  day 
has  served  to  inspire  me  with  loftier  ideals. " 

His  unworthiness  rose  to  mock  him  in  the 
knowledge  of  her  implicit  confidence,  and  he 
spoke  far  more  eloquently  than  he  realized 
in  voicing  his  humility.  Her  truthful  eyes 
seemed  to  read  his  very  soul,  and  in  her  gaze 
he  saw  revealed  the  character  which  would 
scorn  him  as  he  really  was.  Her  presence 
which  had  grown  dear  to  him  in  so  mysterious 
and  sudden  a  manner  was  now  the  punishment 
for  his  rashness,  and  his  one  wish  was  to 
leave  her,  though  to  do  so  was  added  misery. 

He  bent  over  her  hand,  pressed  it  reverently 
to  his  lips,  then  looked  up  quickly  into  her 
eyes,  as  if  to  impress  some  final  picture  upon 
his  mind  as  he  said  brokenly:  "We  may  not 
meet  again,  Mademoiselle,  under  happy  cir- 
cumstances. I  pray  you  think  as  kindly  of 
me  in  the  future  as  you  may.  Farewell, 
Mademoiselle. " 

He  turned  away,  but  she  held  him  quietly 
as  her  clasp  on  his  hand  tightened. 

"Monsieur!"  The  light  of  tears  in 
her  eyes  did  not  escape  him,  "You  have 


The  Journey's  End  125 

proven  yourself  by  those  words  the  gentle- 
man I  thought  you.  My  belief  in  you  has 
only  been  confirmed.  I  beg  of  you  to  grant 
my  wish  to  prove  my  trust  in  you,  and 
to  thank  you  for  all  you  have  done  for  me. 
Monsieur,  of  course,  cannot  fail  to  respond  to 
such  a  plea."  She  smiled  in  merry  raillery, 
then  added  more  seriously,  "My  confidence 
is  not  misplaced,  or  I  am  no  judge  of  men. 
The  man  is  shown  by  deeds  as  well  as  words, 
and  both  have  shown  Monsieur  to  me.  As 
for  what  you  fear — the  suspicion  of  my 
neighbors — ,"  she  chuckled  amusedly,  "that 
would  indeed  be  strange.  The  actions  of  the 
house  of  LeRoi  are  never  questioned.  Ours  is 
the  house  of  rule  in  the  province  of  our  name. " 

"LeRoi!"  The  name  was  only  a  murmur- 
ing, and  in  the  instant  all  things  swam  before 
his  sight.  Her  laughing  face  seemed  far  away. 
His  wound  suddenly  burst  into  unbearable 
pain.  The  weakness  and  weariness  induced 
by  his  long  journey  closed  down  upon  him. 
His  heart  grew  numb  within  him  at  this 
disclosure.  It  was  as  if  he  had  reached  the 
limit  of  endurance.  He  leaned  heavily  against 
the  coach  door,  his  hand  limp  upon  his  horse 's 
bridle. 

"Mademoiselle!"  The  cry  escaped  him  in 
the  despair  of  losing  his  dream,  and  his  pallor 
frightened  her. 


126  At  the  King's  Pleasure 

"  Monsieur !"  she  cried  in  alarm.  "You 
are  ill!" 

"No,  only  weary,  and  my  wound  is  grievous, 
I  fear."  His  voice  seemed  to  be  slipping 
from  him. 

:<Your  wound?  Ah!  You  suffer — in  my 
defense?" 

Her  pity  aroused  him  to  a  last  effort.  "It 
is  nothing.  I — I — permit  me  to  leave  you. 
I — am — unworthy—  "  he  faltered.  His  senses 
swam,  he  reeled,  and  yet  her  clear,  sweet  gaze 
pierced  the  veil  fast  enclouding  his  mind. 

His  mental  agony  escaped  her.  Physical 
suffering  she  believed  it. 

"Jean!"  Her  appeal  for  aid  to  her  serving- 
man  was  the  last  sound  to  penetrate  the  mist 
enveloping  him.  An  instant's  struggle  and 
he  lost  all  knowledge. 


CHAPTER  IX 
The  Mystery  of  Le  Capitaine 

"Monsieur,  the  Marquis  is  better?" 

At  the  low-spoken  question  the  Marquis 
de  Beauchanson  opened  his  eyes  languidly. 
For  some  moments  he  glanced  bewilderedly 
around  the  handsomely  furnished  room,  now 
all  agleam  in  the  morning  sunlight.  Then 
memories  returned  in  a  flood  of  bitterness  and 
pleasure,  as  he  looked  upon  Jean  seated  beside 
him  and  watching  him  anxiously. 

'This  is  the  chateau  of  LeRoi,  n'est-ce 
pas?"  he  asked  simply. 

'Yes,  Monsieur.  We  brought  you  here 
yesterday  after  you  fainted  on  the  highway. 
Your  wound  had  hardly  healed  enough  for 
your  journey  from  Paris,  my  lord.  It  was 
careless  to  undertake  it,  Monsieur.  You 
overdid  and  perhaps  the  excitement,  too,  was 
the  finishing  touch.  The  wound  re-opened, 
Monsieur  fainted,  and  we  brought  him  home. 
Mademoiselle  was  much  concerned  that  you 
did  not  tell  her  of  your  wound,  Monsieur, 
received  in  her  defense.  You  see,  my  lord, 
that  it  was  fated  that  you  should  lodge  with 
us." 

"Ah,  yes,  it  would  seem  so. "  The  Marquis 
mused  as  he  pondered  upon  the  events  of  the 

127 


128  At  the  King's  Pleasure 

past  few  days,  and  wondered  what  those  to 
come  might  have  in  store.  Fate  was  indeed 
working  strangely.  It  would  appear  that 
from  the  first  it  had  been  out  of  his  hands. 

In  the  four  days  which  followed,  the  Mar- 
quis steadily  regained  his  strength,  much  to 
his  own  disgust  and  displeasure.  They  were 
busy  happy  days  in  which  he  surrendered  to 
Mademoiselle  LeRoi 's  ministrations  with  a 
resignation  which  boded  ill  for  his  mission  in 
LeRoi.  Grimly  he  determined  to  enjoy  the 
present,  and  refused  to  recall  his  purpose  in 
coming  to  the  Province,  even  while  he  knew 
that  he  would  pay  doublefold  for  his  present 
relaxation  of  conscience  in  a  suffering  greater 
than  any  he  had  yet  endured. 

All  his  hatred  for  the  injustice  and  tyranny 
of  the  King  welled  in  his  heart  in  these  days. 
He  forgot  the  loyalty  and  love  which  once  had 
been  his  for  his  sovereign.  Perhaps  the  fact 
that  he  was  learning  the  meaning  of  love  was 
teaching  him  so  forcibly  the  existence  of  hate. 
If  the  hours  were  given  up  to  the  happiness 
of  the  moment,  it  was  with  the  undefined 
fear  in  his  mind  that  these  would  be  the  only 
pleasant  memories  allowed  him  in  a  threaten- 
ing future.  One  vague  promise  filled  his 
mind  as  he  allowed  Mademoiselle  LeRoi  and 
her  aunt  to  attend  his  wants  and  comfort. 
He  had  mentally  registered  a  vow  that  as 


The  Mystery  of  Le  Capitaine          129 

soon  as  he  was  able  to  change  his  quarters  he 
would  leave  the  chateau,  and  take  lodgings 
again  at  the  inn.  One  thing  he  was  resolved 
upon,  regardless  of  the  errand  upon  which  he 
had  come,  and  despite  Le  Capitaine 's  orders: 
he  would  not  remain  beneath  her  roof  another 
day  to  spy  upon  her  as  her  guest.  If  he  must 
go  on  with  his  task,  as  he  could  not  but  choose 
to  do,  knowing  well  that  death  awaited  him 
should  he  play  Le  Capitaine  false,  unless  he 
returned  to  Paris  and  sought  service  with  the 
King,  at  least  he  would  do  it  as  manfully  as 
possible.  Much  as  he  despised  certain  phases 
of  his  undertaking,  he  hated  even  more  the 
thraldom  of  life  at  court,  to  which  he  could, 
however,  return  with  conditions  distasteful 
to  his  pride.  Moreover,  the  thought  of 
showing  the  King  that  in  some  respects  he 
could  prove  of  serious  hindrance  to  him, 
aroused  within  him  an  eagerness  for  success 
in  the  task  set  him  by  Le  Capitaine. 

These  days  held  much  of  happiness  for  him, 
cherished  the  more,  perhaps,  because  he  knew 
its  brevity.  Mademoiselle  was  not  only  kind ; 
she  seemed  content  in  his  presence,  and  his 
speeches  dangerously  full  of  the  love  welling 
in  his  heart  did  not  occasion  rebuke  from  her. 
She  had  looked  deep  into  the  large,  mournful 
eyes  and  had  read  something  of  the  soul 
mirrored  behind  the  sadness.  She  guessed, 


130  At  the  King's  Pleasure 

too,  a  little  of  the  emptiness  of  his  past,  and 
of  the  futility  of  his  longings  until  the  present 
had  brought  gifts  which  partially  atoned. 
Doubtless,  also,  she  knew  what  part  she 
played  in  the  brightening  of  his  life.  Appar- 
ently she  did  not  find  uneasiness  in  that 
knowledge,  but,  on  the  contrary,  awaited 
contentedly  the  fulfillment  of  her  own  new- 
found joy. 

"Monsieur  has  been  at  court?"  she  asked 
him  once  in  quiet  conversation. 

"Most  of  my  life,  Mademoiselle,"  he 
responded  gravely. 

"Then  you  must  know  my  Lord  D'Antaur- 
ier?"  she  questioned,  eagerly,  he  thought. 

The  Marquis  smiled  bitterly.  This  noble- 
man seemed  determined  that  his  fate  should  be 
interwoven  with  his  own.  "Quite  well,  mv 
lady." 

His  studied  politeness  caused  Mademoiselle 
LeRoi  to  smile  brilliantly.  "Then  you  can 
discourse  with  me  upon  his  virtues,  for  I 
admire  him  greatly.  He  is  not  as  are  many 
nobles,  given  over  to  idle  pleasures  and  fop- 
peries, but  has  a  deeper  character  and  a  higher 
aim  in  life. " 

The  Marquis  eyed  her  keenly.  Her  cham- 
pionship was  causing  a  strange  pang  in  his 
heart,  and  at  last,  realizing  his  jealousy,  he 
laughed  half  mockingly,  but  his  eyes  remained 
dark  and  sad. 


The  Mystery  of  Le  Capitaine          131 

"His  aim  is  indeed  high  now,  Mademoiselle 
LeRoi,  even  for  the  hand  of  a  Princess." 

She  started  at  the  coldness  of  his  tone. 

"You  do  not  approve  of  this  alliance?" 
she  asked  with  oddly  trembling  voice  as  she 
arose  in  evident  excitement. 

'There  is  little  room  for  romance  and  love 
at  court, "  was  his  embittered  answer. 

"And  that,  Monsieur,  is  why  I  hope  these 
two  may  wed.  They  love  each  other;  I 
believe,"  she  broke  off  with  a  laugh;  "or  at 
least  so  my  cousin  tells  me,  and  I  hope  that 
he  is  right. " 

"Your  cousin?"  he  asked  abruptly.  "May 
I  ask  who  your  cousin  may  be?" 

Her  brow  wrinkled  in  her  surprise,  then  she 
laughed  a  low,  bubbling,  amused  laugh,  as  if 
she  suddenly  understood  something.  "Lord 
D  'Antaurier  is  my  cousin.  Monsieur. " 

' '  Lord  D  'Antaurier — y our  cousin  ?  Ah,  yes ! 
I  had  forgotten."  He  was  gazing  at  her  as 
one  fascinated.  "You  spoke  highly  of  him, 
Mademoiselle  LeRoi;  so  highly  in  fact,  that 
I  was  trying  to  devise  some  excuse  for  calling 
him  out  in  a  duel."  He  smiled  ruefully  as 
he  feasted  upon  her  beauty. 

"A  pretty  speech  of  the  court,  Monsieur?" 
she  derided,  gently. 

R"Nay,  not  so,  Mademoiselle!"  he  whispered 
tenderly,  and  for  an  instant  placed  his  hand 


132  At  the  King's  Pleasure 

upon  her  own,  then  remembering  that  he  had 
now  no  right  to  speak  to  her  of  what  was  in 
his  heart,  he  forced  himself  to  his  old-time 
mockery  as  he  said  lightly,  "now  that 
Mademoiselle  tells  me  of  her  relationship  to 
my  Lord  D'Antaurier,  I  can  trace  many 
points  of  likeness,  for  he  is  one  famed  at  court 
for  his  admirable  presence  and  self -composure, 
as  well  as  for  other  charms  of  personality. 
In  fact  I  marvel  that  I  did  not  guess  before 
that  he  is  your  cousin,  for  you  have  the  same 
brilliantly  dark  hair,  Mademoiselle,  and  the 
same  glorious  brown  eyes  that  are  the  envy 
and  despair  of  noble  women  as  well  as  of 
noblemen  at  the  King's  court." 

"It  is  the  well-known  pleasantry  of  court 
which  my  lord  utters  now, "  retorted  Mademoi- 
selle LeRoi,  reprovingly,  "and  one  which  I 
am  sorry  to  see  in  Monsieur,  here  in  our  distant 
province  of  LeRoi,  for  it  bespeaks  the  idle 
pastime  which  should  not  be  carried  so  far 
from  the  assemblies  of  the  throne-room." 

His  face  became  grave  before  her  jesting 
tone,  and  as  he  looked  upon  her,  she  read 
therein  the  expression  as  of  a  wound  sharply 
and  unexpectedly  inflicted  by  one  whose 
power  to  hurt  was  great, 

"An  idle  pastime,"  he  repeated  slowly  and 
softly.  Gone  was  the  lightness  and  frivolity 
which  had  once  characterized  his  speech. 


The  Mystery  of  Le  Capitaine  133 

"Mayhap,  Mademoiselle,  this  idle  speech  but 
covers  a  meaning  far  more  serious  than  it 
were  wise  to  frame  in  words,  and  so  I  pray 
that  you  think  not  ill  of  an  effort  hardly  made 
to  hide  a  deeper  note. " 

He  smiled  upon  her  as  he  crossed  the  room, 
but  when  he  had  left  her,  she  sat  for  a  long 
time  pondering  his  reply,  and  thinking  of  the 
sadness  in  his  face,  as  he  had  spoken  with  a 
restraint  which  left  so  much  to  be  guessed. 

"What  is  it,  Marie?"  Her  aunt's  voice 
aroused  her  from  her  study. 

"We  must  try  to  bring  Monsieur  the 
Marquis  out  into  the  sunshine,  Aunt,"  she 
replied  half  sadly  and  meditatively.  "He 
bears  a  burden  which  is  crushing  him  in 
sorrow,  and  perhaps — in  remorse — yet  I  be- 
lieve that  he  has  done  no  wrong.  It  is  fate, 
mayhap,  which  has  led  him  in  hard  paths. " 

Thus  four  days  sped  by  of  a  bitterly  sweet 
heaven,  and  he  could  put  aside  no  longer  the 
inevitable.  He  must  go  from  her  home  at 
once.  And  yet  before  he  took  this  step  he 
determined  to  make  an  effort  along  another 
line  of  action  for  which  he  would  require 
Jean's  aid. 

As  his  wound  had  healed  enough  so  that  he 
could  leave  his  room,  to  dine  with  his  hostesses 
in  the  grand  old  dining  hall  of  the  chateau,  he 
also  had  become  interested  once  more  in  the 


134  At  the  King's  Pleasure 

events  of  his  adventure.  Continually  he 
sought  Jean's  society,  questioning  him  con- 
cerning the  surrounding  country  and  those 
who  dwelt  therein.  Thus  he  had  an  easy 
way  to  Jean's  good  graces,  and  gained  from 
him  important  information.  Jean,  with  the 
usual  admiration  of  the  serving-class  for  those 
higher  in  rank  who  possess  virtues  of  dignity 
and  bravery,  looked  with  eyes  of  faithful 
worship  upon  this  nobleman  who  had  rescued 
his  mistress  so  gallantly  against  overwhelming 
odds.  And  the  Marquis,  on  his  part,  found 
Jean  a  man  whose  courage  placed  him  upon  a 
higher  plane  than  that  occupied  by  the  usual 
serving-man — even  as  Lord  D'Antaurier  had 
recognized  this — and  he  also  admitted  him  to 
a  certain  comradeship  and  friendliness. 

On  the  fourth  day,  accordingly,  he  persuaded 
Jean  that  he  was  strong  enough  to  sit  astride 
his  horse,  and  together  they  rode  out  into  the 
Province.  He  had  expressed  a  desire  to  see 
the  famous  old  chateau  formerly  owned  and 
occupied  by  the  elder  Marquis  de  Monterrat, 
before  it  had  been  confiscated  by  the  crown 
on  the  discovery  of  the  younger  Marquis's 
treachery — a  history  well  known  in  Paris. 
Thereafter  the  Marquis  had  retired  to  a  small 
estate  in  Blois  where  he  was  permitted  to  live 
in  peace,  and  in  such  content  as  his  cruel  and 
revengeful  nature  allowed.  The  chateau,  fal- 


The  Mystery  of  Le  Capitaine          135 

len  into  decay  and  ruin,  so  Jean  declared,  lay 
not  far  away  from  the  home  of  Mademoiselle 
LeRoi,  and  thither  they  wended  their  way. 

As  they  rode  along,  the  Marquis  beguiled 
the  journey  with  tales  of  Paris  and  of  the 
court,  yet  ever  avoided  all  mention  of  those 
he  felt  Jean  might  know  too  well.  In  this 
manner  it  was  not  hard  to  bring  the  subject  to 
bear  upon  Le  Capitaine,  and  then  leave  the 
conversation  to  Jean.  His  hopes  were  not 
unrewarded,  for  Jean,  placing  implicit  confi- 
dence in  the  Marquis,  told  him  many  circum- 
stances worthy  of  consideration  in  Le  Capi- 
taine's  life,  learned,  doubtless,  during  his 
many  errands  on  Mademoiselle  Le  Roi  's  or  on 
Lord  D '  Antaurier 's  behalf. 

"And  his  identity,  Jean?  Is  there  then  no 
suspicion  among  his  followers  as  to  his  real 
name  and  home?"  he  asked  casually. 

Jean  smiled  in  grim  significance,  and,  seeing 
it,  the  Marquis  awaited  his  reply  with  hardly 
concealed  eagerness. 

"Monsieur  the  Marquis  has  heard  of  the 
Lady  Anne  de  Moiree,  once  the  most  beautiful 
woman  at  the  court  of  Paris  and  of  Toulouse?  " 

"Lady  Anne  de  Moiree!"  mused  the  Mar- 
quis, his  eye  lighting.  "Ah,  yes,  I  remember 
her  name,  and  also  the  story  which  clings  to 
her  early  life. " 

Jean  cast  a  keen  glance  upon  him.     "She 


136  At  the  King's  Pleasure 

was  a  lady  of  many  charms — and  of  many 
loves,  Monsieur  de  Beauchanson,  is  it  not 
said?  It  is  also  told  that  she  is  the  mother 
of  Le  Capitaine.  His  father?  In  faith— 
Who  knows?" 

The  Marquis  wheeled  abruptly  in  his  tracks, 
and  his  face  gleamed  in  great  enlightenment. 

"His  mother,  the  Lady  Anne  de  Moiree!" 
he  cried  in  incredulity,  and  also  in  triumph. 
"Ah!  I  begin  to  see  the  light  at  last!  She 
dwelt  in  Toulouse,  n'est-ce  pas?  And  that  is 
when — ah,  well,  you  know  the  tale!" 

"Yes,  Monsieur,  that  was  when  she  was  at 
the  height  of  her  power,  loved  and  courted  by 
many  high  in  France,  and  of  them  all  King 
Louis  XI  held  greatest  favor.  She  in  her 
turn  ruled  all  the  court  by  first  ruling  his 
wayward  heart. " 

The  Marquis  nodded.  "She  was  his  favor- 
ite, and  if  her  portraits  speak  truly,  I  do  not 
wonder.  She  had  marvelous  beauty."  He 
mused  awhile,  then  added  softly,  "Mayhap 
we  cannot  judge  the  King  too  harshly — nor 
her,  for  he,  too,  was  well-favored,  and  he  was 
the  King.  But  wait,  methinks  she  left  Tou- 
louse, and  followed  the  King's  army  for  a 
space.  In  fact  it  was  while  the  King  warred 
upon  the  Dukes  of  Brittainy  and  Bourbon, 
and  even  against  Burgundy,  his  former  be- 
friender.  The  Lady  Anne  chose  for  some 


The  Mystery  of  Le  Capitaine          137 

reason  to  follow  the  fortunes  of  war,  and — , " 
he  broke  off  shortly  in  his  reverie,  and  his 
eyes  opened  in  wide  amazement.  "  Ye  gods!" 
he  exclaimed  in  wild  exultation.  "I  have  it 
now!  The  Marquis  commanded  the  army 
at  that  time!  The  rest  is  plain!" 

;'The  Marquis?  "  questioned  Jean  in  wonder. 
"Whom  speak  you  of,  my  lord?" 

"Of  one  who  might  well  be  Le  Capitaine 's 
father,"  returned  the  Marquis  quietly.  ;'The 
likeness—  "  he  paused. 

A  moment  Jean  stared  at  him,  and  seemed 
to  ponder;  then  he,  too,  cried  out  in  excite- 
ment, and  his  face  was  filled  with  amazement. 

"Sacre,  you're  right!"  he  shouted.  "The 
Marquis  de  Monterrat!" 

"Soft,  Jean,  nothing  of  this  to  a  living  soul! 
We  must  have  our  proof. " 

"Proof,  say  you,  Monsieur?  Then  it  is 
ours.  I  know  well  the  peasants  at  the  Mar- 
quis's chateau,  and  if  there  is  a  document  in 
existence  it  will  be  ours  within  the  week." 

"Your  hand  upon  it,  Jean,  and  your  pledge 
of  secrecy!" 

The  handclasp  which  followed  boded  well 
for  the  future. 


CHAPTER  X 
An  Enchanted  Garden 

Filled  with  hope,  and  busy  with  plans  to 
execute  his  purpose,  the  Marquis  returned  to 
the  chateau.  His  cheer iness  and  merriment 
at  dinner  surprised  Mademoiselle  who  had 
seen  little  but  his  graver,  more  despondent 
nature  thus  far  in  their  acquaintance.  For 
the  first  time  she  beheld  him  in  the  happy 
light  which  had  always  been  his  before  sorrows 
and  troubles  had  crowded  upon  him.  Her 
answering  gaiety  warmed  his  mood  like  wine. 
His  eyes  shone  in  kindly  humor  and  mischief. 
His  mocking  smile  curved  his  lips.  His  laugh 
rang  out  happy  and  refreshing,  causing  hers 
to  echo  his  in  glad  abandonment  to  mirth.  He 
jested  and  talked  and  grew  mellow  with 
pleasure  in  entertaining  her,  and  gloried  in 
the  gracious  response  she  vouchsafed  him. 
She  met  his  jests  in  corresponding  wit,  and 
all  the  while  the  love  which  had  sprung  into 
being  through  sadness  glowed  and  strengthened 
through  joy. 

In  the  evening  they  strolled  on  the  broad 
138 


An  Enchanted  Garden  139 

balcony,  and  gradually  their  words  changed 
to  quieter  tone  and  sweeter.  The  autumn 
night  with  its  enticing  perfumes  of  speeding 
summer  closed  them  around  with  delicate 
beauty,  and  the  faint  gleam  of  the  full  moon 
fell  upon  their  shaded  path.  The  peaceful 
touch  of  Nature  soothed  and  caressed,  com- 
pleting the  understanding  which  their  merri- 
ment had  begun.  Below  the  balcony  where 
they  walked  was  the  garden  bathed  in  the  soft 
moonlight,  and  even  now  showing,  though 
vaguely,  and  with  even  more  charm  for  the 
very  elusiveness,  the  many  colors  of  Mademoi- 
selle's  cherished  flowers.  Over  their  heads 
glistened  the  white  walls  of  the  chateau's 
quaint  turrets  and  towers. 

He  had  grown  silent  beneath  the  witchery  of 
her  presence,  and  of  the  night,  and,  she,  feeling 
the  change,  waited  in  calm  contentment  for 
what  it  presaged.  She  would  not  have  been 
the  wonderful  woman  she  was  had  she  failed 
to  recognize  the  reverent  homage  in  his  hand- 
some eyes  as  he  viewed  her  dainty  loveliness. 

Tonight,  as  on  all  evenings  since  he  had  been 
their  guest,  both  Madame  and  Mademoiselle 
had  dressed  with  the  same  punctilious  care 
they  would  have  shown  had  they  been  planning 
to  appear  at  court  assembly  as  was  their  right 
by  rank.  The  Marquis,  also,  had  followed 
their  example,  and  so  had  donned  on  this 


140  At  the  King's  Pleasure 

evening,  in  his  mood  of  happiness,  a  certain 
suit  of  white  satin  that  became  him  well  and 
had  on  so  many  former  occasions  at  court 
been  the  envy  and  pride  of  his  fellow-nobles. 

Mademoiselle  LeRoi  had  also  chosen  to 
wear  white — a  gown  of  ivory  tinted  velvet, 
somewhat  closely  fitted  save  for  the  widely 
flowing  sleeves  which  fell  apart  only  to  reveal 
the  shining  satin  white  of  a  perfect  arm  and 
wrist.  Around  her  gleaming  throat  was  clasped 
a  string  of  pearls,  and  at  her  corsage  there 
swayed  and  drooped  a  cluster  of  pink  roses. 
Her  brilliant  black  hair  and  glorious  dark  eyes 
shone  with  rare  new  charm  in  the  magic 
moonlight,  and  it  was  not  strange  that  the 
Marquis  could  not  lift  his  gaze  from  the 
glorious  woman  beside  him,  so  strongly  did 
she  weave  upon  him  the  spell  of  her  elusive 
feminine  power. 

"It  is  the  time  for  song,  n'est-ce  pas?" 

The  question,  simple  in  itself,  yet  rang 
with  wondrous  meaning.  The  woman  knew 
full  well  that  he  had  dwelt  at  court,  and  was 
versed  in  all  its  subtle  methods  of  pretending 
love  for  pastime.  Yet  she  did  not  doubt  him 
in  this  instance.  His  words  had  been  too  few 
and  simple.  At  moments  of  idle  pleasure 
they  came  quickly  and  in  flowery  eloquence 
far  different  from  this. 

"You  sing,  Monsieur?"  she  observed, 
quietly. 


An  Enchanted  Garden  141 

"I  was  thinking  then  of  a  noblewoman  of 
court,  and  of  the  pleasure  she  has  given  me 
at  my  request.  She  has  a  wondrous  voice, 
and  reaches  a  deeper  note  than  the  casual 
singer.  She  sang  for  me  the  night  before  I 
saw  you  first,  Mademoiselle,  and  the  song 
she  sang  might  well  be  of  this  garden-path 
before  us,  and  of  the  mood  it  wakens. " 

"You  miss  her,  Monsieur?" 

Had  her  voice  faltered  in  the  question? 
His  heart  bounded  with  hope. 

"She  is  the  favored  lady-in-waiting  to  the 
Princess  Helene, "  he  answered  gently.  "Had 
you  dwelt  at  court,  Mademoiselle,  you  would 
know  how  rare  it  is  to  find  true  friends  among 
the  many  courtiers.  I  think  that  she  alone 
has  understood  me  for  my  actual  self.  She 
has  dared  to  show  me  friendship,  and  I  honor 
her.  Once  she  told  me  the  secret  of  her  heart, 
since  she  had  fathomed  mine.  Her  love  is 
given  to  a  man  she  has  not  seen  in  many 
years,  and  perhaps  may  never  see  again." 

Her  voice  rang  out  joyously  as  she  replied  to 
him,  for  she  read  the  reason  of  his  explana- 
tion. 

"Has  Monsieur  de  Beauchanson  ever  played 
upon  a  guitar?  I  have  one  here  recently 
brought  from  Spain."  She  went  quickly  to 
a  table  on  the  veranda,  and  lifted  the  instru- 
ment in  her  hands. 


142  At  the  King 's  Pleasure 

"Ah!"  As  he  took  it  from  her,  his  hand 
closed  over  hers,  and  she  did  not  immediately 
withdraw  it. 

As  they  seated  themselves,  she  did  not  lose 
the  tender  gladness  which  brightened  his 
eyes.  In  silence  she  waited,  and  in  the 
interval  she  was  swept  along  resistlessly  upon 
the  tide  of  romance  which  the  night  had 
brought  to  them.  The  world  and  all  its  joys 
were  hers.  She  had  entered  into  an  enchanted 
kingdom  of  hope  and  promise,  and  satisfied 
desires,  and,  as  its  queen,  she  felt  its  magic 
power  enthralling  her  prince  who  had  come, 
and  was  now  beside  her. 

"When  night  falls  in  dreamy  silence 

On  the  garden  sweet  with  flowers, 
And  I  seek  in  sad  compliance 

To  vain  longings,  scented  bowers, 
Then  deep  in  my  heart's  recesses, 

Thoughts  wake  pleading  to  be  heard, 
Nature  soothes  with  soft  caresses 

And  my  soul's  with  wonder  stirred. 

"In  the  shadows  and  the  gloaming, 

Music  falling  clear  and  light, 
Then  I  dream  my  soul's  deep  dreaming, 

Follow  fancy 's  playful  sprite. 
Longings  fill  me  'neath  the  magic 

Longings  which  I  recognize, 


"  'It  is  my  heart,  Mademoiselle.    I  have  sung  it  to  you ' " 


An  Enchanted  Garden  143 

And  though  wakening  spells  the  tragic, 
I  bid  love  to  tyrannize. " 

His  voice  faltered  at  the  end.  He  turned  to 
her,  and  saw  in  her  eyes  that  which  brought 
the  blood  surging  to  his  cheeks.  The  past 
was  forgotten,  the  future  a  myth,  only  his 
overwhelming  love  for  her  was  real  to  him  in 
that  moment.  In  an  instant  he  was  kneeling 
before  her,  holding  her  hand  in  his. 

"It  is  my  heart,  Mademoiselle,  I  have  sung 
it  to  you,  but  not  all,  for  that  I  cannot  do,  so 
full  is  it  of  you. " 

She  looked  into  his  face  with  a  tenderness 
which  he  had  not  dreamed  could  ever  exist 
in  face  of  woman  for  him,  and,  seeing  it,  his 
heart  smote  him.  Remembrance  of  his  errand 
swept  over  him  in  a  torrent  of  despair  and 
shame.  She  placed  her  hand  gently  on  his 
head.  This  completed  his  undoing. 

"Mademoiselle!"  he  burst  forth  in  an  agony 
of  remorse  and  misery,  "I  am  unworthy!  I 
have  no  right!" 

He  buried  his  face  in  his  hands,  struggling 
to  regain  his  self-control  in  the  storm  of 
repentance  and  self-loathing  which  was  en- 
gulfing him.  Then  at  last  the  quivering 
caress  of  her  fingers  on  his  bowed  head  quieted 
his  nerves,  and  brought  wondrous  balm  to  his 
heart. 


144  At  the  King's  Pleasure 

"Monsieur  is  weary,"  Mademoiselle  LeRoi 
spoke  tenderly.  "He  has  traveled  far  today, 
and  is  overwrought.  Your  wound,  Monsieur, 
is  hardly  healed,  and  you  must  not  ride  forth 
again  for  awhile.  I  have  been  careless  to 
allow  it.  I  see  that  I  shall  have  to  exercise 
authority  and  consider  Monsieur's  welfare, 
since  he  is  so  reckless. " 

"Ah,  Mademoiselle,  I  submit  me  to  thy 
gentle  hands.  Do  with  me  as  thou  wilt,  and 
make  of  me  what  thou  canst.  I  am  not  worthy 
now  to  speak  my  love.  The  future  mayhap 
can  atone,  and  show  me  the  path  to  happiness. 
Forgive  my  presumption." 

"There  is  nothing  to  forgive,  Monsieur," 
she  answered,  happy  in  his  less  formal  term  of 
address.  "Monsieur  has  proven  himself  a 
gentleman,  and  such  words  from  him  can  surely 
cause  no  displeasure.  My  lord  has  paid  me 
the  highest  honor  woman  can  receive  from 
one  who  has  shown  himself  a  noble  in  deeds 
as  well  as  rank.  Monsieur  speaks  to  me  ever 
as  'Mademoiselle.'  It  is  seldom  Mademoi- 
selle LeRoi  and  never  'Marie.'  Has  he  then 
a  reason  for  this?"  she  questioned,  half 
merrily. 

The  Marquis  smiled  in  spite  of  his  conflicting 
emotions.  "Mademoiselle  will  accuse  me  of 
being  sentimental  when  I  explain.  For 
me  thou  wilt  always  be  'Mademoiselle' 


An  Enchanted  Garden  145 

since  for  many  days  thou  wert  known 
to  me  by  no  other  name,  and  from  the  moment 
I  looked  into  thine  eyes  on  the  causeway,  I 
knew  that  thou  wert  the  one  woman  above  all 
others  in  the  world.  It  is  therefore  a  tender 
whim  of  mine  to  ignore  thy  name — until— 
perhaps  sometime — I  may  be  worthy  to  ask 
to  call  thee  by  thy  given  name — Marie. "  His 
voice  sank  to  a  whisper  and  the  caress  of  the 
word  fell  reverently  upon  her  ear. 

On  the  following  morning  he  realized  that 
he  must  go  from  her  house  at  once.  He 
cursed  himself  for  his  folly  of  that  glorious 
night,  cursed  himself,  because  he  knew  that 
he  had  touched  her  heart  when  he  had  only 
one  of  dishonor  to  offer  her.  Was  he  not  here 
to  spy  upon  her?  Was  there  any  hope  that 
he  could  save  her  from  himself,  with  death 
threatening  him  for  treachery?  Yet  he  had 
dared  to  tell  her  of  his  love. 

The  happy  moments  of  freedom  were  over, 
and  clouds,  dark  and  destructive,  were  gather- 
ing once  more  upon  his  life,  as  they  had  ever 
gathered  when  a  ray  of  sunshine  chanced  to 
fall  upon  it.  It  was  in  gloom  and  despair 
that  he  paused  on  the  threshold  of  his  apart- 
ment and  looked  around  it  with  something  of 
farewell  in  his  face,  then,  with  a  gesture  of 
resignation,  he  turned  and  left  the  house  to 
saddle  his  horse.  He  had  come  to  the  parting 


146  At  the  King's  Pleasure 

of  the  ways.  Despite  Mademoiselle's  attempts 
to  dissuade,  he  mounted  his  horse,  and  wended 
his  way  to  the  inn,  one  purpose  in  mind. 

As  he  entered  the  room,  his  eye  fell  upon 
several  officers  at  play  and  wine.  A  shudder 
passed  over  him,  and,  when  one  arose  and  ad- 
dressed him,  his  fears  increased.  There  was 
nothing  to  do  but  to  accept  the  invitation, 
and  to  join  them  in  a  glass  and  game.  He  was 
eyeing  his  cards  with  little  zeal,  when  a  sudden 
pressure  of  his  hand  startled  him,  and  looking, 
he  saw  a  paper  thrust  into  his  sleeve  while 
the  fellow  beside  him  whispered : 

"Le  Capitaine!     Well  done,  comrade." 

Concealing  his  excitement  as  best  he  could, 
he  finished  the  round,  then  bade  his  new 
friends  courteous  adieux  and  departed.  Fe- 
verish with  eagerness,  yet  dreading  to  read 
this  message  from  his  mentor,  he  rode  to  the 
outskirts  of  the  town  before  breaking  the 
seal. 

"Monsieur  the  Marquis,"  he  read,  "has 
justified  my  faith  in  him.  I  knew  that  none 
could  rise  to  the  occasion  as  admirably  as  this 
universal  favorite  with  the  gentler  sex.  The 
ruse,  my  friend,  was  clever.  Even  I  should 
not  have  thought  of  playing  upon  your  wound. 
A  skillful  twist  of  a  knife,  no  doubt,  did  the 
trick  by  re-opening  it,  mon  ami?  You  should 
be  an  actor.  My  men  tell  me  the  faint  was 


An  Enchanted  Garden  147 

parfait,  and  that  none  could  distinguish  it 
from  the  genuine.  I  suppose  Monsieur  has 
not  yet  had  opportunity  to  discover  the  secret, 
being  disabled  for  the  past  four  days,  but  now 
he  can  surely  get  to  his  task  and,  in  the  house 
as  he  is,  it  should  certainly  not  be  very  difficult, 
especially  if  he  has  the  lady's  regard.  I  have 
thought  of  the  contingency,  that  Monsieur 
the  Marquis  may  possibly,  in  his  so  recently 
acquired  gallantry,  desire  to  leave  the  chateau 
for  awhile — merely  to  hoodwink  the  lady  to 
be  sure — but  a  word  of  advice,  Marquis,  such 
advice  as  Le  Capitaine  in  authority  can  bestow, 
the  work  must  be  accomplished  at  once.  We 
cannot  afford  to  waste  time  in  silly  courtesies. 
Monsieur  will  therefore  remain  in  the  chateau, 
even  though  it  hurt  his  noble  purpose  of  mind. 
If  he  disregards  this  command,  Le  Capitaine 
shall  claim  the  forfeit  mentioned  at  the 
beginning  of  our  contract.  Monsieur  under- 
stands?" 

There  was  much  more  in  the  same  ironical 
strain,  but  the  Marquis  savagely  crushed  the 
paper  in  his  hand  as  he  muttered  an  oath. 

"Mon  Dieu!"  he  murmured,  and  his  head 
fell  upon  his  horse's  neck.  Foiled  on  every 
hand,  even  exile  in  Spain  seemed  a  thing  to  be 
desired  now  that  it  was  denied  him.  Perversi- 
ty of  mankind!  Once  he  sought  death  rather 
than  exile,  but  now  a  little  malicious  god  had 


148  At  the  King's  Pleasure 

so  blinded  him  that  he  had  but  one  wish — to 
live,  although  that  life  offered  little  if  any 
hope  for  the  consummation  of  his  desires. 

So  this  was  the  meaning  of  Le  Capitaine's 
renewed  confidence  after  one  betrayal.  He 
appealed  to  his  vanity,  knowing  that  to  be  his 
weakest  point.  De  Monterrat,  then,  was  a 
man  who  rejoiced  in  winning  regard,  only  to 
play  upon  it.  And  the  insinuation  of  the 
reopened  wound !  Perhaps  it  were  as  well  Le 
Capitaine  should  continue  to  think  the  event 
premeditated.  It  would  help  his  cause  and 
conceal  his  conflicting  emotions.  Ah,  what  a 
fool,  what  a  rash  fool  he  had  been  to  go 
blindfolded  into  the  trap  of  these  traitors! 
Just  at  the  time  when  life  might  have  held  the 
best  of  gifts  for  him,  a  happiness  for  which 
he  had  waited  since,  as  a  silent,  sensitive  boy 
he  had  lost  the  only  friend  who  could  realize 
his  nature  and  understand  his  longings,  he 
must  allow  that  recklessness,  the  curse  of  his 
race,  to  place  him  in  a  position  that  must 
forever  destroy  all  hope  for  a  bright  future. 
Back  then  to  the  chateau,  the  slave  of  this 
master  who  ruled  his  very  soul,  back  to  his 
task  with  character  sullied  beyond  all  hope  of 
repair. 

His  mood  that  evening,  so  different  from 
his  mirth  of  the  preceding  one,  did  not  go 
unnoticed ;  and  Mademoiselle,  with  the  pity  of 


An  Enchanted  Garden  149 

purity  and  love,  sought  to  drive  the  shadow 
from  his  face  and  to  give  fresh  courage  to  his 
heart,  yet  her  every  act  and  kindly  word 
stabbed  him  with  renewed  agony. 

"Monsieur,"  she  said  at  last  in  a  soothing 
voice,  as  to  a  tired  child,  "this  is  no  mood  in 
which  to  undertake  a  mission  for  one's  King 
and  country.  It  is  not  in  keeping  with 
Monsieur's  character  to  give  way  to  gloomy 
forebodings. " 

"My  lady,  it  is  not  that  which  appalls 
me.  Death  has  no  terrors  for  me  if  it  be 
in  a  worthy  cause — ah!—  his  face  paled 
-"  *  worthy'!" 

As  he  paused,  Mademoiselle  LeRoi,  mis- 
reading his  meaning,  continued  hurriedly, 
"But,  Monsieur  de  Beauchanson,  remember 
the  glory  of  duty,  the  pleasure  of  serving 
France.  Forget  all  else  in  the  pride  of  being 
her  son.  If  this  task  which  the  King  has 
given  you  must  be  accomplished  by  methods 
verging  perhaps  on  deceit,  think  what  it 
means  to  you  to  be  able  to  overcome  these 
obstacles.  It  may  be  that  the  King,  knowing 
this,  entrusted  the  duty  to  a  man  whom  he 
believed  could  accomplish  it  with  clean  hands; 
and  when  you  go  to  him,  Monsieur, — look 
forward — it  will  be  in  success,  with  the  right  to 
say  that  you  have  fulfilled  his  trust  happily, 
and  with  the  approval  of  your  conscience." 


150  At  the  King's  Pleasure 

"Ah!"  He  watched  her  face  eagerly. 
"Mademoiselle,  there  comes  a  time  in  every 
man's  life  when  he  sees  himself  not  as  he  tries 
to  be  or  as  he  wants  to  be,  but  as  he  is.  For 
a  moment  he  is  allowed  to  behold  his  own 
soul,  and  heaven  help  him  if  he  sees  there  a 
picture  of  faithlessness,  of  manhood  deliberate- 
ly sullied.  Lady  LeRoi  can  know  nothing  of 
these  things,  but  it  is  women  such  as  you, 
Mademoiselle,  that  sometimes  act  as  the 
mirror  for  the  man  to  use  upon  himself.  Such 
kindness  and  trust  as  yours  may  have  a 
bitterness  as  well  as  a  sweetness." 

His  face  was  worn  and  haggard,  and 
Mademoiselle  thought  him  suffering  from  his 
wound. 

"Monsieur  has  paid  me  the  greatest  compli- 
ment a  woman  can  receive,"  she  said,  softly. 
"If  Monsieur  is  thinking  of  some  past  mis- 
takes, some  errors  he  wishes  undone,  his 
repentance  is  even  now  atoning  for  those 
faults  and  showing  the  heart  of  the  true  gen- 
tleman of  France.  He  would  indeed  be  un- 
worthy, if  no  thought  of  his  own  missteps 
came  ever  to  his  mind,  and  as  for  faith,  Mon- 
sieur, what  better  proof  could  you  give  me 
that  confidence  is  not  misplaced,  when  you 
can  feel  and  confess  humility?" 

"Mademoiselle,"  he  replied  almost  harshly, 
but  his  tone  only  brought  a  thrill  of  gladness 


An  Enchanted  Garden  151 

to  her  heart  for  she  knew  he  was  controlling 
himself  with  effort,  "you  will  be  the  first  to 
tell  me  that  no  man  can  serve  two  masters, 
and  also  be  true  to  himself.  Sometimes  a 
man  cannot  serve  even  one  in  all  honor  to  his 
own  ideals.  Surely  then  to  serve  two  masters 
is  vilest  treachery,  not  only  to  himself  but  to 
one  master,  also.  My  path  has  become 
strangely  interwoven.  I  know  not  whither  it 
tends,  nor  how  to  retain  my  self-respect.  If 
I  have  done  wrong  to  man  it  is  because  at  the 
start  I  could  not  deny  my  own  high  aims. 
Yet  in  striving  to  follow  these  last  I  have  come 
to  the  destruction  of  all,  both  of  my  masters 
and  of  myself.  It  does  not  seem  just  that  my 
very  efforts  to  escape  dishonor  and  to  be  true 
to  myself,  should  lead  me  into  even  greater 
difficulties." 

If  his  words  were  a  riddle  to  her,  still  she 
guessed  the  extent  of  his  sorrow  and  his  great 
need  for  comfort,  and  her  reply  brought  ease 
to  his  troubled  soul. 

"Monsieur,"  she  said  kindly,  "sometimes 
one  must  trust  blindly  to  fate  and  struggle  on 
with  but  one  real  aim — the  resolve  to  be  true 
to  oneself.  Let  that  be  first  in  your  desires. 
You  have  brooded  and  grieved  until  all  paths 
are  dark  and  threatening.  You  have  lost 
your  way  in  realms  of  warring  influences.  Be 
false  to  none  wittingly,  but  if  the  choice  must 


152  At  the  King's  Pleasure 

be  made,  let  all  else  fall  except  your  faith  in 
self.  Thus  will  you  also  serve,  mayhap,  one 
master  also,  for  surely  one  must  be  in 
accord  with  your  self-esteem  or  you  would 
not  have  elected  to  follow  him.  You  have 
lost  confidence  in  your  own  decisions,  yet  I 
have  not,  and  let  me  give  you  further  proof 
of  this,  that  you  may  have  restored  faith  in 
your  own  ability." 

As  she  ceased  speaking,  she  moved  lightly 
to  the  window  and  pushed  aside  the  drapery. 

"The  messenger  I  expected  has  arrived,  I 
see." 

Faintly  came  to  their  ears  hoofbeats  in  the 
courtyard,  and  almost  immediately  Jean  ush- 
ered in  the  rider. 

The  Marquis  made  as  if  to  depart,  but  Lady 
LeRoi  interposed: 

"Stay,  Monsieur,  I  ask  it." 

"Mademoiselle  LeRoi?"  asked  the  messen- 
ger. 

'The  same,  and  the  Comtesse?" 

"  Sends  her  regards, "  finished  the  messenger. 

"I  am  the  right  person?" 

"Assuredly,  Mademoiselle,  and  I?" 

"You  have  the  packet  entrusted  to  you  for 
me." 

With  a  polite  bow  he  handed  her  a  package 
and  took  his  leave. 

Mademoiselle  laughed  as  she  turned  to  the 


An  Enchanted  Garden  153 

Marquis.  "Such  formality,  Monsieur!  Yet 
it  is  indeed  necessary.  In  that  way  I  am 
assured  that  this"— she  tapped  the  parcel— 
"has  not  been  tampered  with,  and  the  mes- 
senger knows  that  I  am  not  a  tool  of  Le 
Capitaine's,  pretending  to  be  Mademoiselle 
LeRoi,  as  might  have  been  the  case  had  they 
discovered  my  secret.  I  hold  in  my  hands 
papers  entrusted  to  me  by  the  Province  of 
LeRoi;  pardons  to  exiles  in  Spain,  signed  by 
the  King,  his  consent  to  the  marriage  of  my 
cousin  to  the  Princess  Helene — documents  Le 
Capitaine  greatly  desires,  as  you  know.  The 
night  I  abandoned  my  errand  in  Paris  after 
the  attack  which  you  so  gallantly  repulsed,  I 
left  them  with  friends  near  Paris,  as  I  feared 
being  watched  by  Le  Capitaine!  This  I 
could  safely  do  since  I  received  information 
of  the  Prince 's  disappearance  from  messengers 
of  my  cousin's.  In  forty -eight  hours,  how- 
ever, Frederic  D'Antaurier  will  have  them, 
unless"— she  shrugged  her  pretty  shoulders 
and  laughed  gaily—  "Le  Capitaine's  men  get 
them  first.  Doubtless  Monsieur  de  Beauchan- 
son  wonders  how  I  should  have  come  into 
possession  of  them.  The  story  is  too  long  an 
one  to  relate  now.  The  King  knows  they 
have  miscarried,  and  is  greatly  worried  lest 
his  enemies  get  them,  but  if  I  can  help  it  that 
misfortune  shall  not  occur.  My  cousin's 


154  At  the  King's  Pleasure 

happiness  and  the  Princess  Helene's  depend 
on  my  shrewdness.  Is  it  not  a  great  responsibil- 
ity? Mayhap  Monsieur  will  advise  me  where 
to  pl°^e  them  for  safe  keeping?" 

"No!       '^nost  thundered  the  Marquis. 

"No?"  Mademoiselle  lifted  her  eyebrows 
expressively,  and  smiled  sweetly.  "Monsieur 
is  getting  better.  He  is  cross.  But  I  never 
thought  the  Marquis  de  Beauchanson  would 
so  emphatically  refuse  a  wish  of  mine.  But 
never  mind!  I'm  glad  to  meet  one  man 
whose  wisdom  surpasses  his  vanity.  Long 
ago  I  knew  where  I  should  conceal  these. 
Every  chateau  in  troublous  France  has  its 
secret  hiding-places,  n'est-ce  pas?" 

Her  banter  was  lost  upon  him,  as  he  stood 
silent  with  awe.  A  great  knowledge  of  what 
this  meant  to  him  held  him  in  its  grasp. 
Nothing  was  clear  to  him  except  the  irony  of 
fate  in  thrusting  upon  him  this  information. 
He  took  a  quick  step  forward  as  a  tired  child 
pleading  for  mercy,  and  held  out  his  hands. 
Without  a  moment's  hesitation  she  came  to 
him  and  placed  both  her  hands  in  his. 

"Mademoiselle!"  was  all  he  could  say  as 
he  held  her  tightly. 

With  a  happy  smile,  she  looked  into  his 
face;  for  a  moment  he  stood  thus,  then,  putting 
her  gently  from  him,  he  crossed  the  room  to 
the  hallway.  On  the  threshold  he  paused, 


An  Enchanted  Garden  155 

and  with  a  gesture  of  reverence  passed  out. 
She  did  not  hear  the  words  on  his  lips: 
"To  be  worthy!" 


CHAPTER  XI 
The  Crisis 

Mademoiselle  LeRoi  was  wandering  in  the 
garden,  and  from  his  vantage  point  at  the  library 
window,  the  Marquis  de  Beauchanson  watched 
her  as  she  went  quickly  from  bush  to  bush 
and  from  flower  to  flower.  The  book  in  his 
hand  was  forgotten,  if  in  fact  it  had  ever 
served  any  purpose  other  than  a  pretense  of 
occupation,  the  while  he  furtively  and  happily 
observed  the  charming  mistress  of  the  chateau 
engaged  in  her  morning  duties. 

Perhaps  Marie  LeRoi  had  guessed  that  she 
was  the  object  of  someone 's  attention,  for  a 
merrily  tender  light  sparkled  in  her  downcast 
eyes,  and  mischief  quivered  on  her  lips,  as  she 
worked  steadily  and  composedly,  cutting  and 
pruning,  adjusting  and  gathering.  Slender, 
lithe,  and  well  groomed,  she  seemed  even  more 
dainty  than  ever,  as  she  made  her  graceful 
way  through  the  gardens.  She  was  as  tall  as 
the  Princess  Helene,  and  much  like  her  in 
many  ways,  save  that  the  calm  dignity  which 
became  the  King 's  cousin  so  well  was  replaced 

156 


The  Crisis  157 

in  this  noblewoman  by  a  charming  air  of 
reserve.  While  this  proved  her  womanly 
character  it  was  only  the  more  enticing  and 
alluring  because  it  gave  ftoine  subtle  and 
altogether  indescribable  token  of  coquetry. 
The  red  of  her  cheeks,  heightened  by  her 
exercise,  and,  mayhap,  by  her  thoughts,  only 
matched  in  brilliancy  the  velvety  richness 
of  the  rose  which  coquetted  in  her  dark 
hair;  and  her  olive  skin,  clear  and  smooth, 
unlined  and  glowing,  was  in  glorious  contrast 
to  the  color  rioting  in  two  vivid  spots  upon 
it.  The  Marquis  had  thought  her  beautiful 
on  the  night  upon  the  causeway,  when  he  had 
gone  to  a  woman 's  rescue,  and,  in  looking  into 
her  eyes,  had  found  her  to  be  the  one  of  whom 
he  had  dreamed  and  for  whose  coming  he  had 
prayed.  But  since  that  evening,  he  had 
learned  that  her  beauty  lay  not  in  those  out- 
ward tokens  which  would  ordinarily  please 
the  gaze  of  man,  but  in  the  wonder  and  marvel 
of  her  personality  and  character,  pictured  so 
clearly  and  vividly  in  the  depths  of  her  tran- 
quil eyes.  Now  glowing,  now  tender,  now 
exhorting  or  pleading,  now  commanding  or 
plaintive,  they  told  the  story  of  her  being, 
and  of  her  inmost  thoughts  and  ideals. 
Her  eyes  were  herself,  and  in  the  moods 
they  portrayed  the  Marquis  had  read  a  his- 
tory which  thrilled  and  held  him  spellbound. 


158  At  the  King's  Pleasure 

Looking  into  their  magnetic  depths  he  had 
lost  all  desire  for  freedom  and  had  plunged 
eagerly  into  the  conquest  of  the  changing  sea, 
glorying  the  while  in  his  willing  surrender  to 
her  siren  call. 

Softly  the  Marquis  began  to  sing,  and  as  he 
hummed  the  words  of  a  song  he  loved  well,  he 
reflected  that  once  he  had  come  to  think  that 
love  such  as  was  now  in  his  heart  would  never 
fall  to  his  lot,  and  the  thought  brought  new 
happiness  to  his  eyes. 

"  'Eyes  of  blue  and  hair  of  gold?     Aye  me! 
With  eyes  as  dark  as  a  stormy  sea 
Whose  lights  are  winsome   as   the    sparkling 

stars 

And  with  hair  as  dark  as  a  stormy  night. 
The  maid  I  love  is  sweeter  far 
Than  any  maiden  fair  might  be ! ' 

He  laughed  at  his  poetic  fancy. 

Hearing  his  name  spoken  in  low  tone,  he 
turned  quickly,  while  he  still  smiled  half 
merrily. 

"Monsieur  le  Marquis,"  Jean  came  forward 
slowly  into  the  room,  glancing  about  to  see 
that  the  Marquis  was  alone.  "I  have  news 
for  you,  Monsieur. " 

He  carried  in  his  hand  a  riding-whip,  and 
now  he  touched  his  clothes  sharply  with  it  so 
that  dust  rose  upon  their  surface, 


The  Crisis  159 

"As  Monsieur  sees,  I  have  been  riding  hard, 
but  it  has  paid.  I  have  just  returned  from 
the  estate  of  Monsieur  the  Marquis  de  Monter- 
rat,  and  I  have  some  papers  which  Monsieur 
will  find  worthy  of  his  attention,  else  I  much 
mistake. " 

So  speaking,  he  drew  forth  a  scroll  of 
parchment,  and  handed  it  to  the  Marquis. 

"I  rode  over  to  the  chateau  at  daybreak, 
Monsieur,  and  gained  admittance  by  saying 
I  came  from  the  Marquis  de  Monterrat.  As 
I  told  Monsieur,  I  am  acquainted  with  many 
servants  there,  and,  being  friendly  with  them, 
they  did  not  doubt  my  story,  knowing  as  they 
do,  that  I  am  often  in  Paris  on  various  errands. 
The  man  in  charge  gave  over  to  my  keep- 
ing this  small  casket  of  papers,  for  I  asked 
concerning  certain  documents  in  the  mere 
chance  of  hitting  upon  something  to  our  use. 
Luck  was  with  me.  I  succeeded  far  beyond 
my  hopes.  It  seems  that  the  Marquis  had 
left  orders  that,  if  he  should  send  for  a  packet 
of  papers,  these  were  the  ones  he  desired,  and 
considering  me  his  messenger,  they  surrendered 
them  to  me  without  a  word  of  questioning." 

The  Marquis  had  been  eagerly  examining 
the  parchments,  and  now  he  cried  aloud  in 
surprise  and  exultation. 

"Ma  foi,  Jean!  But  we  have  here  that 
which  will  make  the  King  himself  exclaim  in 


160  At  the  King's  Pleasure 

wonderment.  Why,  fellow,  the  King  is  saved, 
and  Paris,  too,  for  with  these  proofs  in  our 
possession,  we  can  rid  His  Majesty  forever 
from  annoyance  by  Le  Capitaine!" 

In  the  hour  which  ensued  the  Marquis  read 
and  pondered  upon  the  papers  which  had 
come  into  his  keeping  in  so  strange  a  manner, 
and  he  was  only  aroused  from  his  reverie  by 
Mademoiselle  LeRoi's  voice. 

"Can  Monsieur  de  Beauchanson  amuse 
himself  this  afternoon?"  she  asked. 

The  Marquis  arose  quickly  from  his  chair. 

"Pardon,"  he  said,  "I  did  not  hear  Made- 
moiselle LeRoi  enter.  I  was  absorbed,  and 
she  walks  lightly,  more  so  than  do  most 
women. " 

He  noted  that  she  was  now  clad  in  riding 
attire,  and  he  marveled  at  it.  She  had  not 
left  the  chateau  except  by  carriage  since  his 
arrival  in  the  province,  and  he  wondered  what 
this  journey  might  mean.  And  meanwhile, 
even  in  his  surprise,  he  was  drinking  in  the 
picture  she  presented  to  his  eager  eyes,  in  her 
dark  green  velvet  habit  and  wide  sweeping 
hat  with  its  gracefully  drooping  plume  of  the 
same  rich  green.  At  her  bosom  was  a  perfect 
red  rose  matching  in  its  rare  coloring  the 
crimson  of  her  glowing  cheeks. 

"Monsieur  need  not  excuse  himself.  So 
pretty  a  compliment  would  condone  a  greater 


The  Crisis  161 

fault.  Methinks,  too,  it  is  the  first  of  its 
kind  that  Monsieur  has  paid  me." 

She  spoke  lightly,  but  some  new  sadness  in 
her  tone  touched  his  heart,  so  that  it  was  with 
a  corresponding  sorrow  that  he  responded: 

"  It  is  ever  so,  Mademoiselle  LeRoi.  He  who 
thinks  most,  says  least.  Some  things  become 
too  sacred  for  words.  Love  is  one  of  these." 

Her  hand  trembled  slightly  as  she  played 
with  her  riding  whip.  "Monsieur  speaks 
from  experience,"  she  jested. 

"From  experience,  if  you  wish,  but  not 
from  'experiences,'  he  answered  calmly. 
"Love  has  come  to  me  once,  not  many  times, 
as  to  some;  and  when  it  comes  once  it  is  said 
that  it  is  the  best.  It  found  me,  Mademoiselle, 
as  I  have  told  you,  on  the  causeway  beyond 
Paris." 

"Yes?  Fate  deals  strangely.  It  is  a  coin- 
cidence— "  she  hesitated  then  laughed  happily 

"but  I  am  forgetting,  I  must  go  upon  my 
errand.  We  all  have  our  missions  and  our 
troubles,  Monsieur,"  she  added  significantly. 

"Marie!"  He  came  to  her  side  but  she 
held  up  a  detaining  hand.  The  light  which 
leaped  to  her  eyes  at  his  impulsive  address, 
was  clear  to  him,  however. 

"Not  now,  Monsieur,  I  am  late  already." 

The  kindness  in  her  tone  robbed  her  words 
of  all  sting. 


162  At  the  King's  Pleasure 

"Can  Monsieur  entertain  himself  for  the 
afternoon?  Perhaps  he,  too,  may  have  work 
to  do  in  the  King's  cause.  If  not,  there  on 
the  book-case  he  will  find  a  manuscript  which 
may  interest  him.  It  is  the  history  of  our 
troubles  in  Spain.  My  uncle  is  in  the  midst 
of  the  tumult,  and  he  sent  me  this  report  for 
my  pleasure." 

"Can  not  I  accompany  you,  Mademoiselle, 
upon  your  mission?" 

She  smiled  at  the  eagerness  in  his  question. 

"It  were  better  not,  Monsieur.  The  more 
quietly  I  go  upon  my  way,  the  less  fear  I  shall 
have  of  failure.  I  go  to  meet  my  cousin,  Lord 
D'Antaurier,  to  give  into  his  keeping  the 
documents  which  he  desires  so  much.  We 
are  to  meet  at  the  defile  on  the  border  of  the 
Province." 

"  Mademoiselle ! "  He  spoke  her  name  hard- 
ly above  a  whisper,  yet  all  the  misery  of  his 
heart  was  in  the  word. 

Deep  into  her  calm,  grave  eyes  he  looked, 
gazed  and  drank  to  the  full  of  their  purity 
and  wealth  of  feeling;  feasted  upon  the  good- 
ness he  read  mirrored  there;  cried  out  at  the 
fate  which  had  pursued  him  so  cruelly. 

The  pride  with  which  he  had  battled  during 
that  past  week,  rose  up  now  to  confront  him 
in  a  final  struggle.  To  save  her,  then  to 
declare  himself  to  Le  Capitaine,  and  to  return 


The  Crisis  163 

to  Paris,  yielding  to  his  sovereign's  power, 
was  one  course.  To  save  her  from  Le  Capi- 
taine,  and  then  to  give  himself  up  to  the 
punishment  for  his  treachery,  was  the  other 
wray  open  to  him.  In  these  few  days  both 
had  seemed  too  repugnant  to  dwell  upon,  and 
he  had  drifted  aimlessly,  hardly  knowing  how 
he  should  act  when  the  time  came  for  him  to 
choose  among  his  pride,  his  love,  and  his  life. 
But  now  that  the  crisis  had  come  upon  him, 
even  while  he  was  yet  unaware  of  its  rapid 
approach,  all  pride,  hesitancy  and  fear  were 
gone.  Of  a  sudden  the  agony  in  his  heart 
melted  away  as  if  it  had  never  been.  A  burst 
of  light  and  song  and  glory  flooded  his  mind, 
and  face  to  face  with  the  wonder  of  her  soul 
his  own  stood  freed  and  cleansed  in  the  awak- 
ening of  his  greatest  manhood.  The  miracle 
had  been  wrought  by  the  magnetism  of  her 
purity.  The  supreme  moment  had  tried  him 
by  crudest  torture,  and  had  been  met  by  him 
with  the  strength  which  love  only  could  ever 
have  imparted  to  his  character,  and  from  that 
instant  he  was  a  man  untramelled,  unafraid, 
whom  neither  threats  nor  pride  could  swerve 
from  that  even  course  which  would  be  his. 
Once  having  conquered,  he  could  never  falter 
again. 

'  "You  go  to  meet  my  lord?"  he  asked,  and 
something  in  the  way  he  addressed  her  made 


164  At  the  King's  Pleasure 

her  watch  him  wonderingly.  "May  I  ask 
you  this,  before  you  go,  Mademoiselle,  to  take 
charge  for  me,  of  these  papers  which  I  freely 
intrust  to  you?  I  must  go  upon  a  mission  of 
my  own  this  day,  and  from  it  I  may  not 
return.  I  must  work  out  my  end  in  my  own 
way,  but  of  this  be  assured,  Mademoiselle, 
in  serving  thee  I  have  found  my  greatest 
joy  and  also  my  salvation.  I  pray  thee 
remember  this  of  me  always,  that  when  I  have 
erred  it  has  been  at  expense  of  misery  such  as 
thou  canst  never  suffer,  and  my  one  redeeming 
trait  has  been  my  love  for  thee,  which  has 
been  as  pure  and  true  as  ever  man's  could  be 
for  woman  such  as  thou.  If  I  should  not 
return  to  thee  this  night,  take  these  papers  to 
the  King;  but  do  not  so  until  thou  knowest  I 
am  dead.  While  I  yet  live,  keep  them  against 
my  return;  but  after  my  death  take  them  to 
His  Majesty,  the  King." 

He  gently  pushed  into  her  hand  the  packet 
Jean  had  so  lately  given  to  him.  His  sugges- 
tion of  threatening  danger  did  not  terrify  her. 
Though  it  struck  to  her  heart  with  a  chill  of 
bitter  foreboding,  she  did  not  shrink  before 
the  discovery  of  his  peril.  Hers  was  a  nature 
which  not  only  could  face  all  obstacles  un- 
daunted, but  could  conquer  them  through 
sheer  force  of  will. 

She  looked  up  into  his  face,  then  placed  her 
hands  upon  his  shoulder. 


The  Crisis  165 

"Monsieur,"  she  said,  softly,  "thy  meaning 
is  not  plain  to  me  on  many  things,  but  I  trust 
thee.  No  matter  what  might  befall,  my 
faith  would  be  unshattered,  for  even  as  thou 
hast  declared  thy  love  for  me.  my  heart  has 
been  in  thy  keeping  since  that  wondrous  night 
upon  the  causeway  when  thou  didst  fight  in 
my  defense  and  save  me  from  the  harm  the 
worst  which  can  befall  a  woman." 

Her  voice  did  not  falter,  but  the  wealth  of 
love  in  her  tone  seemed  a  recompense  for  the 
trick  that  fate  had  played  him. 

While  they  stood  thus,  Jean  had  entered, 
and  for  a  moment  he  hesitated  whether  to 
speak  or  to  withdraw;  but  Mademoiselle  Le 
Roi,  with  true  instinct  feeling  the  presence  of 
another  in  the  room,  let  her  hands  fall  slowly 
to  her  sides  and  faced  the  serving-man. 

"Pardon,  Mademoiselle  LeRoi,"  Jean  ad- 
dressed her,  "Madame  bade  me  ask  you  to 
see  her  again  before  you  go. " 

"I  will  see  her  at  once,  Jean,  thank  you." 
So  saying  she  slipped  a  knapsack  from  her 
shoulders  and  placed  it  on  the  table. 

"I  will  take  thy  papers  now,  Monsieur,  and 
put  them  in  safe-keeping.  I  will  return 
presently. "  With  these  words  to  the  Marquis, 
she  left  the  room,  and  for  a  few  minutes  the 
Marquis  stood  staring  after  her.  Then  with  a 
gesture  of  reverence,  he  opened  her  knapsack, 


166  At  the  King's  Pleasure 

removed  the  papers  therein,  and  a  moment 
later  he  put  in  their  stead  the  manuscript  of 
which  she  had  told  him  concerning  the  history 
of  France's  troubles  in  Spain.  It  was  only 
the  work  of  an  instant  to  place  on  the  book- 
case the  King's  signed  pardons  to  exiles,  as 
well  as  his  consent  to  Princess  Helene's 
marriage  to  Lord  D'Antaurier.  Hardly  had 
he  completed  the  exchange,  when  a  figure 
darkened  the  long  window  opening  upon  the 
veranda. 

"Du  Jeuille!"  Tears  of  excitement  sprang 
to  the  Marquis's  eyes,  and  he  held  out  his 
hand  to  grasp  his  friend 's. 

"You  are  coming  with  us,  Monsieur?" 

yrhe  Marquis  looked  at  him  in  agony  of 
uncertainty.  "My  God!"  he  cried,  "what 
have  I  done!" 

Du  Jeuille  leaned  forward  with  a  new  light 
shining  in  his  countenance. 

"Marquis,"  he  said  significantly,  "I  am 
your  friend.  Count  upon  me  for  aid.  We 
shall  win  yet. " 

The  Marquis  searched  Du  Jeuille 's  face  to 
read  his  good  faith.  Apparently  satisfied 
with  his  scrutiny  he  grasped  his  hand  in  grip  of 
iron. 

"You  mean  it?  Ye  gods,  but  it  must  be  so! 
When  the  time  comes — watch  out  for  my 
knapsack,  my  friend!" 


The  Crisis  167 

"Trust  me!" 

Uttering  these  two  sharp,  clear-cut  words, 
Du  Jeuille  leaped  to  the  window  and  sprang  into 
space. 

Hardly  had  the  thud  of  his  falling  body 
reached  the  Marquis's  ears,  when  Mademoi- 
selle LeRoi  re-entered  the  room.  Carelessly 
she  swung  the  knapsack  over  her  shoulder, 
then  held  out  her  hand  to  the  Marquis. 

"I  must  say  farewell,  my  lord,"  she  said 
gently. 

With  no  word,  the  Marquis  sank  on  his 
knee  before  her  and  kissed  her  outstretched 
hand. 

"My  heart  is  in  thy  keeping,"  he  spoke 
falteringly,  "As  long  as  I  have  thy  faith  I 
can  live  or  die  content. " 

"My  faith  and  love  are  thine,  and  ever  will 
be.' '  Her  words  came  from  a  full  heart. 

He  escorted  her  to  the  door,  and  then  from 
the  veranda  watched  Baptiste  help  her  to 
mount.  Returning  to  the  library,  he  took  in 
his  hand  the  papers  of  which  he  had  robbed  her. 
As  he  went  to  his  own  apartment  there  was 
in  his  eyes  an  expression  of  new-found  peace. 

It  was  only  a  few  minutes  later  that,  fully 
dressed  for  riding  and  carrying  a  knapsack 
similar  to  Mademoiselle  LeRoi 's,  the  Marquis 
hurried  into  the  courtyard  and  called  to  Jean 
to  saddle  two  horses. 


168  At  the  King's  Pleasure 

Jean  watched  his  preparations  for  a  journey 
with  interest. 

"You  want  me  to  accompany  you,  Mon- 
sieur?" 

'Yes,  Jean.     You  are  armed?" 

The  man  tapped  his  belt  significantly. 

"It  is  well,"  approved  the  Marquis  and 
mounted  his  horse. 

At  a  sharp  canter  he  rode  down  the  hillside 
closely  followed  by  Jean.  For  some  time  they 
made  their  way  in  silence.  As  he  neared  the 
foot  of  the  incline,  the  Marquis  turned  to  the 
right  upon  a  narrow  path  which  branched 
off  into  the  woods.  Mile  after  mile  they  left 
behind  and  two  hours  sped  past  as  they 
traveled,  and  still  no  words  were  spoken. 
Then  at  length  they  came  to  the  crest  of  the 
narrow  gorge  which  led  to  the  defile  upon  the 
Province's  border. 

Here  the  Marquis  drew  rein,  for  so  speedily 
had  they  come  that  they  had  overtaken 
Mademoiselle  LeRoi  despite  her  start  of  them. 
At  sight  of  the  erect  figure  a  little  distance 
ahead,  standing  out  sharply  against  the  sky- 
line in  beautiful  relief,  the  Marquis  came  to 
a  halt.  An  instant  he  feasted  his  eyes  upon 
her,  and  when  at  length  he  turned  to  Jean  the 
serving-man  noted  the  sorrow  in  his  face. 

"Something  is  wrong,  Monsieur  le  Mar- 
quis?" he  asked  anxiously. 


The  Crisis  169 

Impulsively  the  Marquis  held  out  his  hand 
to  him. 

"Jean,"  he  addressed  him  earnestly,  "do 
you  trust  me?  Do  you  believe  me  a  man 
worthy  of  her  confidence?" 

"Why,  Monsieur,"  cried  the  other  in 
amazement,  "assuredly."  Then  he  caught 
a  little  of  the  Marquis's  meaning,  and  added 
significantly,  "Even  for  her,  Monsieur,  you 
are  worthy  enough.  I  have  long  seen  how- 
things  were  between  you,  and  in  my  opinion, 
my  lord,  Mademoiselle  is  to  be  congratulated, 
as  well  as  yourself. " 

The  Marquis  smiled  ruefully. 

"Before  I  leave  you,  Jean,  I  must  thank  you 
not  only  for  those  words,  but  for  all  the  aid 
you  have  rendered  me  since  first  we  met  in 
Paris.  I  am  only  sorry  I  cannot  show  my 
appreciation  more  substantially — but — as 
events  are  now,  it  would  seem  that  my  own 
reward,  however  well  deserved,  is  not  an 
enviable  one.  This  may  be  our  last  speech 
together.  Therefore,  let  me  shake  hands 
with  you,  comrade,  and  bid  you  'God  speed' 
for  all  the  future.  But  I  have  here  a  token, 
a  medal,  given  to  me  by  His  Majesty  the 
King,  for  services,  which  I  want  you  to  keep 
in  remembrance  of  me.  If  at  any  time  you 
go  to  Paris,  find  Lord  De  Chatton  or  Monsieur 
Beaumon,  and  show  them  this.  It  will  gain 


170  At  the  King's  Pleasure 

you  audience  with  the  King,  and  receive  from 
him  acknowledgement — and  favor — such  as  I 
am  not  able  to  give  you  though  I  would." 

"Monsieur  le  Marquis,"  Jean  began,  much 
affected,  and  took  the  medal  in  his  hand  with 
a  gesture  of  respect. 

"Do  not  thank  me,  Jean,"  the  Marquis 
interrupted.  "It  is  little  I  can  do  to  repay 
you.  But  now  I  must  go  on — to  the  end— 
the  bitter  end.  Wait  here  for  me,  and  come 
to  me  only  when  I  give  the  signal,  but  do  not 
come  as  if  to  aid  me  or  as  if  to  fight  a  foe. 
Whatever  and  whoever  you  find,  be  silent 
and  discreet;  upon  it  may  depend  Mademoi- 
selle's safety." 

"I  understand,  Monsieur." 


CHAPTER  XII 
Surrender 

The  Marquis  spurred  on  his  way  alone. 
Ahead  of  him  Mademoiselle  LeRoi  was  ap- 
proaching the  great  oak  at  the  defile.  Straight 
onward  she  rode,  and  gave  no  glance  behind 
to  see  if  any  one  pursued.  Steadily  the 
Marquis  gained  upon  her.  Then  of  a  sudden 
she  came  to  a  halt  in  the  great  open  space 
beneath  the  giant  tree.  She  looked  about  her 
curiously,  but  with  never  a  trace  of  uneasiness 
or  apprehension,  and  thus  it  was  while  she 
waited  in  patience  and  security  that  the  blow 
fell.  The  Marquis  uttered  a  cry  even  before 
he  had  guessed  her  peril.  Fully  a  dozen  men 
sprang  from  ambush  on  all  sides,  and  in  an 
instant  she  was  surrounded  by  Le  Capitaine's 
hidden  force.  With  another  cry,  the  Marquis 
dug  the  spurs  into  his  steed  and  rushed  upon 
them. 

"Hail,  Marquis!" 

"Well  done,  camaradel"  were  the  greetings 
flung  out  at  him  by  the  enthusiastic  followers. 

But  the  Marquis  saw  no  one  save  his  master, 
Le  Capitaine.  A  blur  was  upon  him. 

171 


172  At  the  King's  Pleasure 

:'You — here?"  he  finally  stammered. 

Le  Capitaine  laughed  rudely. 

"Monsieur  le  Marquis  is  surprised  to  see 
me?  For  once,  my  lord,  my  fears  have  been 
groundless.  I  did  not  trust  you,  you  see,  so 
came  myself  to  watch  the  merry  farce.  But 
evidently  the  Marquis  de  Monterrat  decided 
to  be  true  to  his  reputation  and  to  beware  the 
penalty  of  my  wrath." 

The  Marquis  had  not  glanced  at  Mademoi- 
selle LeRoi  since  he  had  reached  her  side,  but 
she  had  not  taken  her  gaze  from  his  face, 
watching  him  bewilderedly,  and  trying  to 
fathom  the  meaning  of  these  strange  words 
and  of  the  stranger  fact  of  his  presence. 

"We  are  all  assembled?"  The  suave  voice 
of  Le  Capitaine  broke  in  upon  her  wonderings 
and  brought  a  chill  of  terror  to  her  heart. 

The  Marquis  instinctively  felt  the  change 
in  her  as  she  drew  herself  up  rigidly  in  the 
saddle,  and  it  recalled  him  to  the  peril  he  was 
facing,  and  to  the  need  of  instant  action.  He 
glanced  hastily  around  the  little  circle  of 
jeering  men.  Du  Jeuille  caught  his  gaze,  and 
with  quick  perception  of  his  silent  message 
came  quietly  to  his  side.  As  their  horses' 
heads  touched,  the  Marquis  carefully  loosened 
the  strap  which  held  his  knapsack  to  his 
shoulder.  The  great  bag  loosened,  slipped, 
but  did  not  fall.  Deftly  and  unconcernedly, 


Surrender  173 

Du  Jeuille  caught  it  and  slung  it  over  his  arm. 
So  speedily  and  skillfully  was  it  done  that  not 
one  in  all  the  throng  detected  their  movements. 

The  Marquis  did  not  dare  to  look  at  his 
friend,  but  he  sighed  with  relief  as  he  swung 
about  and  faced  Mademoiselle  LeRoi.  The 
look  she  turned  upon  him  smote  him  with 
quick  remorse.  He  had  forgotten  in  his  own 
excitement  what  must  be  her  surprise  and 
torture  at  finding  him  known  to  Le  Capitaine 
and  greeted  by  these  men  as  a  fellow  and 
comrade.  Silently  they  gazed  at  each  other, 
but  the  woman  spoke  no  word.  Pride  was 
struggling  for  the  mastery.  She  would  not 
ask  an  explanation  lest  she  seem  to  doubt  him, 
and  yet  her  attitude  challenged  him  to  tell  her 
without  delay  the  reason  for  this  peculiar 
meeting. 

Le  Capitaine,  viewing  them,  laughed  aloud. 

"Mademoiselle  LeRoi  is  puzzled,"  he  cried 
sneeringly.  "Her  faith  in  her  lover  is  great, 
since  she  does  not  realize  that  he  has  betrayed 
her.  But  the  farce  must  end.  The  papers, 
Mademoiselle!  It  were  as  well  to  give  them 
quietly,  for  we  shall  take  them  by  force  in  the 
end,  if  thwarted." 

The  angry  color  sprang  to  the  Marquis's 
cheeks  at  Le  Capitaine 's  insult,  and  his 
fingers  twitched  nervously  upon  his  sword- 
hilt.  Yet  all  the  time  he  knew  his  helplessness. 


174  At  the  King's  Pleasure 

As  lie  faced  the  dozen  followers  Le  Capitaine 
had  brought,  proving  that  the  leader  had 
doubted  him,  he  admitted  that  the  doubt  was 
not  without  cause  for  had  there  been  fewer  he 
would  have  signalled  Jean,  relied  upon  Du 
Jeuille  for  aid,  and  fought  even  against 
heavier  odds  than  upon  the  causeway.  But 
from  the  first  instant  of  his  arrival,  he  had 
known  that  three  men,  however  brave,  could 
not  avail  against  this  force. 

Mademoiselle  LeRoi  turned  upon  Le  Capi- 
taine scornfully. 

"Monsieur  Le  Capitan,"  she  said  bitingly, 
"is  proving  his  right  to  this  title  instead  of  to 
that  one  'Capitaine'  given  doubtless  in  irony 
by  his  superiors." 

The  Marquis  laughed  at  the  effect  her 
retort  produced. 

"Let  us  apologize,  then,  for  this  seeming 
rudeness,"  Le  Capitaine  replied,  sarcastically. 

'All  is  fair  in  love  and  war,'  "  he  smirked  at 
the  Marquis.  "It  is  not  our  habit  to  war 
upon  the  women  of  France,  but  when  they 
have  the  daring  to  serve  so  vile  a  master  as  the 
King,  we  cannot  choose  our  course." 

"And  so  the  habit  of  insulting  noblewomen 
is  becoming  a  permanent  one,"  interrupted 
Mademoiselle,  haughtily. 

With  a  snarl,  Le  Capitaine  sprang  to  her 
horse's  head. 


Surrender  175 

"Very  witty,  my  lady,"  he  cried  in  a  rage, 
"but  of  no  avail.  The  pardons  are  ours. 
You  have  failed  in  your  mission — and  you 
have  to  thank  for  it  this  man  whom  you  have 
received  at  your  chateau,  waited  upon  in  his 
illness,  and  granted  your  friendship.  It  was 
due  to  him  also  that  you  escaped  us  once, 
but  he  has  more  than  atoned  for  his  fault  by 
bringing  about  this  meeting."  He  suddenly 
wheeled  toward  the  Marquis.  "Monsieur  le 
Marquis  de  Monterrat,  let  me  congratulate 
you  upon  winning  this  lady's  confidence,  and 
upon  your  good  sense  in  abiding  by  my 
advice. " 

The  reason  for  his  return  to  good  nature  was 
not  lost  upon  the  Marquis.  He  saw  at  once 
that  Le  Capitaine  's  words  had  been  a  token  of 
personal  spite  caused  by  his  own  former 
treachery.  He  wished  to  humiliate  him  before 
Mademoiselle  LeRoi  and  play  upon  their 
evident  friendship. 

The  woman  was  pale  as  she  turned  to  the 
Marquis,  and  she  raised  her  head  in  proud 
defiance.  Hah*  fearing  what  she  would  say, 
he  waited  breathlessly. 

"Are  you  the  Marquis  de  Monterrat?" 

Each  syllable  seemed  like  the  lash  of  a  whip 
in  his  face. 

"I  have  often  wished  to  see  him,  but  I  did 
not  expect  to  find  him  a  gentleman.  I  had 


176  At  the  King's  Pleasure 

an  altogether  different  idea  of  him — and  so — 
because  I  do  not  think  that  all  his  acquaint- 
ances have  misjudged  him — and  also  because 
Le  Capitaine  calls  you  by  that  name,  I  feel 
assured,  my  Lord  de  Beauchanson,  that  you 
are  not  the  noble  we  all  despise. "  She  smiled 
radiantly  and  held  out  her  hand  to  him. 

"Mademoiselle!"  The  reaction  from  fear 
of  her  distrust  and  scorn  was  voiced  in  the 
beloved  name. 

"So  you  do  not  believe  the  word  of  Le 
Capitaine,"  raged  the  leader.  "Ask  Mon- 
sieur the  Marquis.  He  will  not  deny  it. 
He  has  kept  a  silent  tongue  in  his  head,  for 
he  is  shrewd.  But  the  time  has  come  for  him 
to  speak.  I  warrant  it  hurts  to  confess  he  has 
fooled  you.  Hardened  though  he  is,  it  would 
seem  his  own  heart  had  actually  been  touched 
in  this  case.  Come,  Marquis  de  Monterrat, 
tell  the  lady  your  name.  Speak  up,  little 
man,  don 't  be  afraid ! "  He  jeered  insultingly, 
but  the  Marquis  only  laughed. 

"When  Mademoiselle  LeRoi  asks  me  who 
I  am,  I  will  speak."  Emboldened  by  the 
confidence  he  read  in  her  manner,  the  Marquis 
tested  her. 

"And  Mademoiselle  does  not  ask  you, 
Monsieur  de  Beauchanson.  You  have  told 
her  your  name  and  I  have  no  cause  to  doubt 
your  word,  especially  when  you  are  accused 


Surrender  177 

by    such    an    one    as    Le    Capitaine. "     She 
responded  to  the  test  most  gloriously. 

"Perhaps  Mademoiselle  LeRoi  will  not  be 
so  sure  of  his  trust-worthiness  when  she  is 
told  that  it  is  from  the  Marquis  we  learned  of 
her  intended  journey  today  to  meet  my  Lord 
D  'Antaurier.  Perhaps,  too,  he  will  deny  that 
he  was  sent  by  me  into  the  Province  of  LeRoi 
to  secure  the  documents  which  Mademoiselle 
has  in  her  possession.  And  denying  this,  he 
will  go  yet  farther  and  deny  that  he  sent 
Monsieur  Lerieur  here  this  message  informing 
us  of  her  coming  meeting  with  her  cousin." 
He  drew  forth  a  scroll  as  he  spoke  and  thrust 
it  into  Mademoiselle's  hand. 

Bewilderedly  she  accepted  the  missive, 
glanced  from  it  to  the  Marquis,  then  hastily 
read  its  contents.  Her  expression  changed 
rapidly  from  incredulity  to  belief,  terror,  and 
despair.  With  a  cry  of  alarm,  she  let  the  note 
drop  from  her  hand,  and  closed  her  eyes  as 
she  swayed  in  the  saddle.  A  moment  she 
struggled,  then  raised  her  head  proudly,  as 
she  forced  back  the  rising  sob.  'Monsieur— 
I  will — not — believe — it!"  The  anguish  and 
courage  and  pleading  in  the  cry  as  she  still 
clung  to  her  avowed  faith  in  him  brought 
tears  gushing  to  the  Marquis 's  eyes. 

"God  bless  you,  Mademoiselle!"  he  gloried, 
"Nvw,  I  will  speak,  and  you  shall  know  the 


178  At  the  King 's  Pleasure 

full  depth  of  my  infamy,  and  the  measure  of 
my  recompense.  Le  Capitaine  has  spoken 
truly.  I  sent  that  message  to  him  yesterday, 
or  rather  to  his  Lieutenant  at  the  inn  in  charge 
of  his  affairs.  But  when  I  sent  it,  Mademoi- 
selle, I  thought  I  lied.  I  did  not  dream  you 
would  go  to  meet  your  cousin  today.  My 
plan  was  to  rid  myself  of  these  fellows' 
presence,  then  to  effect  some  scheme  to  save 

you." 

"I  knew  you  were  true!"  exclaimed  the 
woman,  her  eyes  shining  in  triumph. 

"Wait!"  he  raised  his  hand  imperiously. 
"It  is  true  also  that  I  came  to  the  Province 
as  a  spy  of  Le  Capitaine 's.  It  was  the 
price  I  paid  for  rescuing  you  upon  the 
causeway.  I  was  given  this  chance  to 
redeem  myself.  Death  was  the  penalty  if  I 
failed,  through  treachery" —his  voice  sank 
to  a  whisper,  and  he  waited  a  moment  before 
he  continued.  "Life  was  dear  to  me.  I 
was  a  coward.  I  had  taken  another  man's 
role  and  I  could  not  turn  back.  Le  Capi- 
taine and  his  men  believed  I  was  the 
Marquis  de  Monterrat  and  I  permitted  the 
error  when  I  found  that  a  woman  was  to  be 
molested. " 

Silence  followed  his  avowal,  but  it  was  plain 
from  the  countenances  of  Le  Capitaine 's  men 
that  his  words  were  not  believed.  To  them 


Surrender  179 

it  was  merely  an  elaboration  of  this  nobleman 
who  desired  to  deceive  to  the  end  the  woman 
with  whom  he  had  played.  Only  one,  and  he, 
Du  Jeuille,  was  affected  by  his  announcement. 
He  scrutinized  his  friend  sharply,  the  while 
he  recalled  the  many  points  of  his  character 
and  appearance  wrhich  had  puzzled  him.  Then, 
turning  away  abruptly,  he  rode  into  the  woods 
and  Le  Capitaine,  without  a  sign,  allowed  him 
to  go. 

"Who  may  you  be,  then,  Marquis?"  Le 
Capitaine  addressed  him  amusedly. 

The  Marquis  laughed  recklessly,  "One  who 
no  longer  takes  orders  from  you,  Monsieur, 
but  one  who  has  gained  freedom  from  your 
power.  At  various  times  since  our  meeting 
on  the  causeway,  I  have  been  a  coward,  but  I 
am  so  no  longer.  I  came  to  the  Province  as 
your  spy — an  act  of  cowardice.  Ignorant  of 
Mademoiselle's  identity,  still  I  refused  her 
hospitality,  for  this  much  decency  I  have 
shown;  and  when  fate  drove  me  so  to  do,  I 
strove  to  leave  her  home  and  to  return  to  the 
inn.  Threats  that  I  accept  of  her  kindness 
forestalled  me — and  again  I  played  the  coward 
and  obeyed.  I  would  have  gone  to  Spain  into 
exile.jStt  Spies  cut  me  off.  Yesterday  Mademoi- 
selle LeRoi  entrusted  to  me  a  secret  and  she 
cannot  know  what  she  caused  me  to  suffer  by 
her  disclosure.  In  forty-eight  hours  she  planned 


180  At  the  King's  Pleasure 

to  give  over  to  her  cousin  certain  important 
documents.  Those  were  her  words,  and  at 
length  I  thought  I  saw  in  them  an  opportunity 
for  gaining  respite.  Acting  on  this  knowledge, 
I  wrote  to  the  Lieutenant,  Mademoiselle,  that 
you  would  ride  forth  today,  while  I  believed 
you  would  not  make  your  journey  till  tomor- 
row. I  thought  also  that  my  lord  would  make 
the  journey  to  the  Province  over  the  same 
road  that  I  had  taken,  and  that  you  would 
meet  him  somewhere  to  the  east  of  the  chateau. 
Accordingly  I  selected  the  western  border  of 
the  Province  as  the  place  to  send  Le  Capitaine's 
men,  and,  by  so  doing,  all  unwittingly  I  fore- 
told your  actual  meeting  place. 

"I  told  you  today,  Mademoiselle,  that  I 
too,  had  a  mission,  when  I  learned  that  you 
indeed  were  riding  forth  to  meet  your  cousin, 
and  I  told  you  that  I  must  bring  that  mission 
to  an  end  in  my  own  way.  Along  the  path  I 
have  trod  these  past  few  days  I  have  faltered 
and  stumbled  and  well-nigh  fallen,  but  when 
today  I  looked  into  your  face,  while  you  said 
you  were  on  your  way  to  meet  Lord  D'An- 
taurier,  all  doubt  and  fears  and  forebodings 
left  me  on  the  instant.  My  love  for  you 
became  better  than  had  been  in  my  heart 
since  our  meeting.  I  have  dreamed  of  such 
love,  but  did  not  think  to  find  it.  It  awakened 
then,  Mademoiselle.  It  was  no  longer  faulty, 


Surrender  181 

human,  erring,  selfish.  It  burst  forth  into 
the  full  bloom  of  that  grandeur  which  consists 
of  such  purity  that  all  selfish  motives  are 
submerged  in  the  overpowering  strength  of  an 
essence  almost  divine.  Pride,  love,  and  life 
were  the  objects  of  my  struggle.  It  was  you 
who  taught  me  their  relative  value  through 
the  example  of  your  own  character.  I  chose 
then,  looking  deep  into  your  heart,  and  my 
choice  has  not  changed. " 

Mademoiselle  LeRoi  had  listened  with  bowed 
head  as  the  Marquis  spoke  and  he  could  not 
read  her  countenance,  so  well  schooled  was 
she  in  hiding  her  emotion.  Now,  however, 
she  looked  up  at  him,  and  in  her  glance  he 
saw  her  faith  and  trust  still  undisturbed. 

"Yes?"  she  asked  gently.  "I  know,  Mon- 
sieur, your  choice.  There  can  be  but  one." 
Her  eyes,  over-brimming  with  love,  met  his. 

"Yes,  Mademoiselle,  but  one,"  he  answered 
softly.  "I  shall  atone  for  my  every  faithless 
thought.  Capitaine,  do  with  me  as  you  will. 
I  am  your  prisoner." 

"All  very  fine  and  heroic,  Monsieur,  but  we 
still  have  the  pardons.  Has  Monsieur  the 
Marquis  completed  his  little  affair?  It  is 
vastly  interesting — the  manner  in  which  he 
can  gain  all  women's  love  and  confidence— 
but  time  is  speeding,  and  we  must  away. 
Come,  friend,  end  the  play,  and  we  '11  be  gone. " 


182  At  the  King's  Pleasure 

He  slapped  the  Marquis  heartily  upon  the 
shoulder  as  he  grinned  with  pleasure.  His 
followers  burst  into  roars  of  laughter.  "You 're 
the  very  devil  of  a  fellow,  by  my  faith!" 
he  cried  between  their  shouts. 

Still  laughing,  he  again  approached  Mademoi- 
selle LeRoi,  and  took  the  knapsack  from  her 
nerveless  grasp. 

"O,  Monsieur,  I  am  lost!"  In  terror  she  held 
out  her  hands  to  her  lover. 

"You  trust  me  yet — Mademoiselle?"  He 
bent  forward,  and  took  both  her  hands  in  his, 
and  his  action  called  forth  another  peal  of 
laughter  from  the  soldiers.  Calmly  he  ignored 
them,  and  as  she  merely  nodded  in  reply  to 
his  question,  he  reassured  her: 

"Fear  not,  Mademoiselle,  for  all  is  well. 
The  documents  you  treasure  so  carefully  are 
not  in  the  knapsack.  There  is  only  a  manu- 
script there,  interesting  but  valueless — the 
one  your  uncle  sent  you  from  Spain!" 

"Monsieur!  My  lord!  My  love!"  With 
a  cry  of  joy  she  flung  her  arms  about  his  neck, 
and  they  laughed  and  cried  together. 

Uttering  an  oath,  Le  Capitaine  tore  open 
the  knapsack.  One  glance  was  enough  to 
prove  to  him  that  the  Marquis  had  spoken 
truly.  White  with  rage  at  being  outwitted, 
he  rushed  at  him. 

"You    dog!"    he    shouted,    beside    himself 


Surrender  183 

with  anger.  ;<You  shall  pay  for  this!  Sur- 
round him,  men!  Disarm  him!" 

From  all  sides  they  sprang  upon  him,  tore 
his  sword  from  his  grasp,  and  dragged  him 
from  the  saddle. 

"Shame  upon  you!     Shame,  I  say!" 

At  the  clear,  contemptuous  cry  they  desisted 
in  their  attack  and  fell  back.  Mademoiselle 
LeRoi  spurred  her  horse  upon  Le  Capitaine, 
and  raised  her  whip  above  her  head. 

"Put  up  your  sword,  you  bully,  or  I  shall 
strike.  What  means  this?  What  has  this 
man  done  but  serve  his  sovereign  and  the 
woman  he  loves?  Use  your  sword  if  you  dare. 
The  King  shall  know  of  this,  and  make  you 
rue  this  day. " 

Awed  by  her  courage,  and  stricken  with 
fear  at  her  words,  the  men  stood  waiting 
bewilderedly.  Even  Le  Capitaine  halted  and 
gazed  upon  her  as  in  a  dream.  It  was  only 
for  a  moment. 

"By  my  faith,  but  you're  a  bold  one, 
Mademoiselle!  Tis  useless,  though,  to  try  to 
fight  for  him.  We  do  not  wish  to  harm  you; 
but  remember,  we're  twelve  to  one." 

She  faced  the  Marquis  fearfully. 

"What  does  it  mean?  What  will  they  do 
with  thee?" 

The  Marquis  shook  off  the  detaining  hands 
of  soldiers,  and  went  to  her  side  as  she  dis- 
mounted. 


184  At  the  King's  Pleasure 

"It  means,  Mademoiselle,  that  I  have 
betrayed  Le  Capitaine,  and  must  pay  the 
penalty — which  is  death.  There  is  no  redress, 
I  fear.  But  look  up,  dear  heart — I  have  kept 
thy  faith.  I  have  cleared  my  soul  of  guilt, 
and  have  made  pure  the  love  I  offer  thee.  And 
if  the  love  of  a  man  who  has  hesitated  is  of  any 
value  to  thee — " 

"Hush,  Monsieur,  thou  shalt  not  say  it. 
Thou  thinkest  thou  didst  hesitate,  but  it  is 
not  true.  Unwittingly  thou  hast  ever  meant 
to  act  the  nobler  part.  This  cannot  be  the 
end  for  us.  I  shall  not  despair,  and  thou  must 
be  of  good  cheer.  This,  then,  is  what  has 
hushed  thy  words  of  love  upon  thy  lips — but 
now  that  thou  art  freed — speak  to  me,  my 
love — the  name  thou  didst  not  dare—  '  she 
faltered— "thou  art  more  than  worthy— 

"Marie!"  He  gathered  her  close  in  his 
arms. 

Silent  with  shame,  the  soldiers  waited. 
Before  the  glory  of  this  woman's  faith  and 
love  they  turned  away  their  faces. 

"Come,  Monsieur  le  Marquis,"  cried  Le 
Capitaine,  curtly,  "the  grave  is  dug." 

"When  do  you  propose  to  carry  out  this 
threat?"  Mademoiselle  faced  him  proudly. 

"At  noon,  tomorrow,"  was  the  grudging 
response. 

Immediately    her    strength    and    fortitude 


Surrender  185 

seemed  to  desert  her,  and  it  was  then,  as  the 
Marquis  strove  to  comfort  her,  that  he  gave 
the  signal  to  the  waiting  servant.  Quickly 
Jean  responded  to  the  call.  As  he  drew  near, 
the  Marquis  placed  Mademoiselle,  drooping 
with  despair,  upon  her  horse,  and  gave  the 
bridle  into  the  attendant's  hand,  saying 
brokenly: 

'Take  her  home,  Jean." 
The  little  cavalcade  silent,  shamed  and 
sullen,  made  its  way  through  the  woodpath. 
The  Marquis,  erect,  mocking,  cheerful,  the 
only  attractive  figure  in  the  throng,  rode  a 
prisoner  in  its  midst.  In  his  face  was  reflected 
a  light  of  happiness  such  as  he  had  never  before 
known  in  his  narrowly  encompassed  life.  He 
had  at  last  acted  the  part  of  the  man,  and 
proven  himself  wrorthy  the  gift  of  love. 


CHAPTER  XIII 
A  Dream  of  Spain 

The  slanting  rays  of  the  afternoon  sun, 
gleaming  at  intervals  through  the  dense  wood, 
cast  golden  splashes  upon  the  narrow  forest- 
path.  Now  widening,  now  narrowing,  they 
wavered  and  fluttered  as  the  breeze  swayed 
branches  heavy  with  foliage,  and  the  sunbeams 
danced  and  made  merry  in  the  varying 
shadows  of  clustering  leaves.  At  another  time 
Du  Jeuille  would  have  noted  with  pleasure 
the  changing  scene,  gloried  in  the  seclusion  of 
woodsy  nooks,  and  watched  the  shifting  light 
seek  remotest  corners;  but  now  he  rode 
furiously  through  the  dell,  his  horse  crashing 
ruthlessly  over  the  soft  carpet  of  leaves  and 
flowers.  His  one  thought  was  to  reach  the 
open  before  Lord  D ' Antaurier  could  pass  on 
his  way  to  the  defile. 

By  what  road  Lord  D' Antaurier  would 
travel,  Du  Jeuille  had  no  way  of  knowing. 
Yet  upon  his  intercepting  the  noble  before  he 
reached  the  border  and  walked  blindly  into 
Le  Capitaine's  trap  depended  not  only  the 

186 


A  Dream  of  Spain  187 

former's  safety,  but  that  of  Mademoiselle 
LeRoi  and  of  De  Monterrat,  so  called.  The 
latter 's  emphatic  denial  of  right  to  that  name 
had  impressed  Du  Jeuille  so  greatly  that  he 
did  not  hesitate  to  credit  the  assertion  of 
mistaken  identity.  Indeed,  now  that  he  al- 
lowed his  mind  to  dwell  upon  the  matter,  he 
found  ample  proofs  of  the  error  that  had  been 
made,  and  he  only  marvelled  that  he  had  not 
awakened  sooner  to  realization  that  it  was 
impossible  for  this  man  to  be  the  real  Marquis 
de  Monterrat.  Follower  of  Le  Capitaine 
though  Du  Jeuille  was,  it  has  been  demon- 
strated that  he  was  not  an  ardent  believer  in 
his  infallibility.  So  in  this  instance  his  sym- 
pathies were  with  the  man  who  had  outwitted 
their  leader  by  rescuing  Mademoiselle  LeRoi 
upon  the  causeway.  From  the  moment  the 
other's  sword  had  flashed  from  its  scabbard 
in  defense  of  their  intended  victim,  Du  Jeuille 
had  felt  for  this  new  comrade  an  admiration 
and  friendliness  such  as  he  had  experienced 
for  no  other  comrade  in  his  chosen  service. 
He  had  foreseen  at  that  time,  even  while 
rendering  him  and  the  Lady  LeRoi  aid  in  their 
escape,  that  this  would  not  be  the  end  of  the 
affair  if  they  were  to  play  a  deeper  game  than 
Le  Capitaine,  and  defeat  him  on  his  own 
grounds.  When  the  Marquis  at  the  chateau 
had  mentioned  the  knapsack,  Du  Jeuille 


188  At  the  King's  Pleasure 

accordingly  had  seen  the  way  made  clear 
before  him  in  what  manner  he  could  serve  his 
cause,  and  now,  having  accomplished  part  of 
his  mission,  that  of  gaining  possession  of  the 
coveted  documents,  his  aim  was  to  overtake 
Lord  D'Antaurier  before  he  should  stumble 
defenseless  upon  Le  Capitaine  and  be  taken 
prisoner.  He  gave  no  heed  to  the  Marquis's 
position,  if  in  fact  he  dreamed  that  his  comrade 
was  in  any  peril,  for  he  had  no  cause  to  think 
that  the  influence  which  had  previously  been 
potent  to  save  the  noble  would  not  again 
stand  him  in  good  stead. 

When  at  length  Du  Jeuille  saw  before  him 
the  end  of  the  woodpath,  and  beyond,  the 
broad,  low  stretches  of  meadow-land,  it  seemed 
to  him  in  his  great  tension  that  the  supreme 
moment  of  all  his  efforts  had  come.  In  this 
instant,  he  would  gain  or  lose  all.  With  one 
last  mighty  gathering  of  strength  he  urged 
his  horse  forward,  and  with  a  desperate  plunge 
it  thundered  out  upon  the  waving  grasses  of 
the  field.  Then,  as  Du  Jeuille  scanned  the 
wide  expanse,  a  cry  of  relief  escaped  him  and 
he  swayed  in  the  saddle. 

Lord  D'Antaurier  drew  rein  a  few  feet  awray 
and  stared  at  him  curiously  and  searchingly. 
So  unexpectedly  had  the  rider  burst  from  cover 
of  the  forest  that  the  nobleman  had  been 
forced  to  halt  his  horse  with  almost  cruel 


<A  Dream  of  Spain  189 

suddenness.  Now  he  spoke  no  word,  yet  his 
eyes  were  hard  with  the  suspicion  forming  in 
his  mind.  But  Du  Jeuille  did  not  wait  to 
state  his  errand.  He  leaped  from  his  horse, 
and  carrying  the  coveted  knapsack  almost  ran 
to  D 'Antaurier 's  side. 

"My  lord!"  he  cried,  his  voice  thrilling  with 
triumph,  "we  have  won!" 

Before  the  astonished  noble  could  question 
his  meaning,  Du  Jeuille,  strangely  moved  from 
his  wonted  calm,  poured  out  the  tale  of  events 
from  the  moment  of  Mademoiselle  LeRoi's 
rescue  on  the  causeway,  to  the  present  attack 
of  Le  Capitaine's.  With  increasing  interest 
Lord  D 'Antaurier  waited  for  him  to  finish, 
and  all  the  while  he  looked  upon  the  other  with 
an  expression  of  wonder  and  amazement. 

"Monsieur,"  he  cried  at  last,  interrupting 
Du  Jeuille  in  his  eagerness,  "methinks  I  have 
discovered  in  you  a  friend  of  many  years  ago. 
Else  my  memory  much  misleads  me,  you  are 
one  who  could  today  be  high  in  His  Majesty's 
court  had  you  so  chosen.  Instead  you  fol- 
lowed another  path,  and  yet,  while  serving  Le 
Capitaine,  you  have  dared  to  defy  him  and  to 
serve  our  cause!  Marquis  de  Belleamie,  will 
you  not  acknowledge  our  friendship?" 

Silently  Du  Jeuille  held  out  his  hand  and  met 
the  noble's  grasp.  His  eyes  were  sparkling 
with  emotion. 


190  At  the  King's  Pleasure 

'You  have  not  forgotten  me,  then,  my 
lord?"  he  questioned,  after  a  moment. 

"Far  from  it,  Marquis,  and  from  this  day 
we  shall  be  better  friends  even  than  when  we 
served  in  the  same  regiment  a  few  years  ago. 
The  aid  you  have  rendered  me  can  never  be 
repaid  by  me,  and  as  for  this  man  you  call 
the  Marquis  de  Monterrat,  I  cannot  express 
my  wonder  that  one  who  is  a  stranger  to  me 
has  yet  proven  so  true  a  friend.  I  can  well 
believe  the  name  is  not  his  own,  for  he  has 
shown  himself  to  be  a  man  of  men,  and  one 
far  different  from  what  we  have  known  the 
true  Marquis  to  be.  But  come,  I  cannot 
tarry  longer  now,  for  I  must  away  upon  my 
journey,  and  leave  to  you  for  a  time  the 
mission  of  discovering  who  this  man  may  be, 
and  of  bringing  me  news  of  him,  for  I  cannot 
let  many  days  pass  before  I  find  him  and  thank 
him  in  person.  Will  you  not  come  with  me 
now,  Monsieur?  I  would  disclose  to  you  a 
secret. " 

Du  Jeuille  nodded,  and  sprang  into  his 
saddle.  If  he  felt  curiosity  he  concealed  it, 
but  followed  his  friend  across  the  meadow  to 
the  woods.  D'Antaurier  plunged  into  the 
thicket,  the  Marquis  at  his  heels,  and  then  he 
as  suddenly  halted,  for  without  a  moment's 
warning  he  found  himself  confronting  what 
seemed  to  him  could  only  be  a  vision.  Before 


A  Dream  of  Spain  191 

them  on  horseback  sat  Princess  Helene — and 
beside  her — the  Marquis  stared  unbelievingly, 
his  cheeks  flushing  with  wonder,  for  he  was 
looking  into  the  gentle  face  of  her  of  whom  he 
had  dreamed,  the  lady  far  over  the  border  in 
Spain.  As  her  eyes  met  his,  her  lips  parted 
in  an  explanation  of  surprise  that  was  almost 
dread. 

A  moment  he  looked  upon  her,  his  face 
expressing  the  emotions  which  thronged  in  his 
heart,  and  she,  reading  aright  his  countenance, 
thrilled  at  the  knowledge  that  all  the  years 
had  been  as  naught,  but  were  swept  away 
before  the  glory  and  strength  of  an  abiding 
love.  And  yet  to  him  she  seemed  strangely 
cold  and  forbidding,  for  pride  and  jealousy 
were  surging  to  make  their  imprint  in  haughti- 
ness where  he  had  hoped  for  kindness  to  be 
written. 

With  an  effort,  he  mastered  his  surprise, 
and  dismounting,  approached  the  Princess, 
uncovering  his  head  as  he  did  so,  and  moving 
with  a  grace  and  deference  that  caused  Helene's 
pale  cheeks  to  crimson  with  pleasure. 

"Your  Highness,"  Lord  D'Antaurier  said 
quickly,  "this  is  my  friend  and  comrade,  the 
Marquis  de  Belleamie,  and  he  has  indeed  been 
a  friend  to  us  this  day.  He  has  brought  to  us 
the  King's  consent  to  our  marriage,  and,  but 
for  him  and  for  the  aid  of  another  man  whose 


192  At  the  King's  Pleasure 

identity  I  do  not  know,  Le  Capitaine  would 
now  have  this  consent — the  Lady  LeRoi 
having  again  been  intercepted — and  I  would 
be  his  prisoner." 

"Sir,"  Helene  impulsively  dismounted  hold- 
ing out  her  hand  to  the  Marquis  de  Belleamie 
as  she  did  so,  and  he  gently  kissed  it,  as  he 
quickly  knelt,  "your  name  has  long  been 
known  to  me,  and  I  have  wished  to  meet  you. 
Your  qualities  have  been  the  praise  of  all,  but 
I  little  dreamed  I  should  soon  find  a  proof 
thereof  in  kindness  so  courageously  shown  my- 
self. Monsieur  Beaumon  and  Lord  DeChatton 
will  rejoice  that  you  are  found.  Far  and  wide 
have  they  searched  for  you.  But  here  is  yet 
another  who  will  be  glad  to  see  your  face  again. 
Marquis,  I  thank  you. " 

She  made  a  gesture  toward  her  companion 
and  smiled  half  mischievously,  but  Lady 
Marguerite 's  face  remained  cold  and  unrespon- 
sive. The  Marquis  followed  her  glance,  but 
seeing  Marguerite 's  stern  countenance,  turned 
away  again. 

:' Your  Highness  is  pleased  to  show  me  more 
kindness  than  I  deserve,"  he  replied  to  the 
Princess  half  sadly,  "for  I  have  followed  one 
who  is  the  King's  enemy,  and  am  no  more  a 
noble  of  his  court.  To  serve  you  and  my 
Lord  D  'Antaurier  has  been  my  great  privilege, 
and  it  has  been  to  me  far  more  than  you  can 


A  Dream  of  Spain  193 

know  that  opportunity  has  been  granted  me 
in  this  to  follow  my  own  motives,  and  to  be 
the  servant  of  no  master,  either  King  or 
Capitaine. " 

"It  would  seem  you  have  betrayed  them 
both." 

Cold  and  hard  as  the  words  were,  the 
speaker's  voice  faltered. 

The  Marquis  flushed,  then  paled,  and  as  he 
faced  her  with  a  start,  the  expression  of  hurt 
surprise  in  his  eyes  filled  Lady  Marguerite 
with  quick  remorse  for  her  cruel  words. 

"Marguerite!"  He  spoke  her  name  with 
all  the  pent-up  sorrow  of  his  many  days  of 
wandering  and  weary  struggle. 

'You  know  not  what  you  say,  and  yet  from 
your  viewpoint  it  seems  the  truth." 

"Lady  Marguerite  does  not  understand  how 
much  we  owe  the  Marquis  de  Belleamie. " 

The  low-toned  words  of  Lord  D  'Antaurier 
relieved  the  tension,  and  without  pausing  for 
reply  he  hurried  on  to  relate  the  incidents 
attending  Mademoiselle  LeRoi's  journey  to 
the  causeway.  And  all  the  while  he  spoke 
the  Marquis  silently  drank  in  his  lady's 
beauty  as  one  who  feasted  upon  long-forbidden 
pleasures. 

When  Lord  D 'Antaurier  ended,  he  turned 
to  Princess  Helene  saying: 

"And  now  that  at  last  we  have  the  King's 


194  At  the  King's  Pleasure 

consent  to  our  marriage,  Princess,  let  us  go 
on  over  the  border  to  some  humble  priest, 
before  any  further  ill  can  befall  us. " 

But  Lady  Marguerite,  having  discovered 
the  method  of  torture  to  apply  to  her  lover, 
was  not  content  with  the  havoc  she  had 
already  wrought. 

"Then  twice,  my  lord,"  she  addressed 
D'Antaurier,  "the  Marquis  de  Belleamie  has 
aided  the  King's  cause  despite  his  position  in 
the  service  of  Le  Capitaine. " 

The  nobleman  looked  at  Marguerite  in 
wonder  at  her  scornful  tone,  then  smiled 
understandingly,  a  great  enlightenment  falling 
upon  him.  With  a  gesture  of  grace,  he  turned 
to  Helene  and  took  her  hand  in  his,  as  he  said 
to  her  tenderly: 

"Let  us  continue  on  our  way,  beloved,  and 
leave  our  friends  to  settle  their  little  difference. 
Farewell  to  you  both,  and  do  you,  Marquis, 
see  the  Lady  Marguerite  to  us  in  safety  at  the 
Chapelle  de  Plus  Fide. " 

The  others  hardly  heard  or  responded,  so 
absorbed  were  they  in  each  other.  The 
Marquis  had  wheeled  upon  Lady  Marguerite 
determinedly,  and  now  he  answered  her 
accusation  with  a  dignity  which  made  her 
stare  wide-eyed  into  his  set  face. 

"Yes,  Mademoiselle,  twice  I  have  turned 
traitor,  and  aided  a  cause  I  could  not  alto- 


A  Dream  of  Spain  195 

gether  approve,  in  direct  opposition  to  what 
I  had  supposed  to  be  my  convictions.  To 
what  I  had  supposed,  Mademoiselle—  his 
voice  rang  out  in  triumph — "for  after  I  had 
entered  my  chosen  service,  and  by  so  doing 
lost  the  best  that  life  had  to  offer  me" — at  his 
challenge  Lady  Marguerite  hung  her  head— 
"I  learned  to  my  sorrow  my  mistake.  The 
cause  looked  so  fair  and  noble  from  a  distance, 
my  lady,  and  I  was  striving  to  attain  some- 
thing beyond  the  intrigues  of  court,  but  in  the 
midst,  the  glamour  of  what  I  had  thought 
gold  turned  leaden.  Le  Capitaine  stooped  to 
methods  of  which  even  our  rash  King  Louis 
would  have  been  ashamed.  And  so  once  more 
I  had  the  courage  of  my  opinions,  Mademoi- 
selle, though  knowledge  of  the  phantom  I 
pursued  has  come  too  late,  and,  as  you  twice 
insinuated,  I  turned  a  traitor. " 

Even  as  suddenly  as  he  had  faced  her  to 
answer  her  charge,  so  now  he  turned  away 
lest  she  read  the  sorrow  in  his  eyes  and  guess 
the  misery  in  his  heart.  A  moment  only  Lady 
Marguerite  hesitated,  then,  with  a  quick 
glance  of  inquiry,  she  dismounted  and  ran  to 
her  lover's  side. 

"Victor,"  she  said  gently  as  she  touched 
his  arm  timidly,  "forgive  me — I—  '  she  fal- 
tered, as  he  faced  her  and  looked  down  into 
her  eyes,  his  own  alight  with  a  new  wonder 


196  At  the  King's  Pleasure 

and  hope.  The  surrender  and  appeal  he  read 
there  completed  his  undoing,  and  he  would 
have  taken  her  in  his  arms  had  she  not  eluded 
him.  At  a  safe  distance  she  smiled  up  at  him 
tremulously,  and  then  she  began  to  speak  in 
tones  faltering  with  her  great  happiness. 

"Has  no  thought  of  surprise  at  my  being 
here  occurred  to  you,  Victor?  I  went  with 
my  father  to  Spain,  ordered  into  exile  by  the 
King,  but  knowing  that  he  would  soon  sign 
the  consent  to  our  return,  I  felt  no  great 
concern.  Then  sorrow  came  to  me.  My 
father  died,  worn  out  with  grief  and  worry 
and  the  effect  of  the  long  journey  upon  his 
heart  which,  as  you  know,  was  none  too  strong. 

"I  could  not  remain  alone  in  Spain,  though 
many  of  our  friends  in  like  plight  as  ourselves 
offered  me  their  hospitality.  This  I  could  not 
bring  myself  to  accept,  and  as  I  realized  that 
it  was  only  a  question  of  time  before  I  should 
be  recalled,  I  concluded  to  return  to  France 
and  throw  myself  upon  the  protection  of 
Princess  Helene.  This  I  did,  and  my  con- 
fidence in  her  character  was  not  misplaced. 
My  life  with  her  has  been  peaceful,  even 
happy,  or  would  have  been  if  there  had  not 
been  a  bitter  memory  to  keep  me  ever  longing 
to  see  one  face  again. " 

Once  more  Marguerite  came  to  her  lover's 
side,  and,  placing  her  hand  on  his  arm,  looked 


A  Dream  of  Spain  197 

up  into  his  eyes,  her  face  alight  with  the  willing 
surrender  of  her  pride.  Her  sweet  voice  trem- 
bled as  she  continued  to  lay  bare  her  heart. 

"But  I  had  another  motive  in  returning  to 
France,  Monsieur,  and  in  braving  the  dangers 
of  discovery  and  the  King's  obligations  to  his 
denouncers.  I  hoped  to  see  again  the  man  I 
had  deeply  wronged  by  my  false  pride  and 
cruel  repulsion,  and  I  prayed  that  I  might 
find  him  and  atone  in  part  for  all  that  I  had 
made  him  suffer." 

"Marguerite!"  Eagerly  the  Marquis  took 
her  hand  in  his,  while  he  drank  deep  of  the 
love  and  trust  glowing  in  her  eyes  raised 
pleadingly  and  tearfully  to  his.  The  wonder 
of  all  that  had  come  to  pass  held  him  spell- 
bound, and  with  the  one  cry  of  her  dear  name, 
he  struggled  to  express  the  glory  and  beauty 
of  the  emotions  swaying  him.  Realizing  his 
inability,  he  carried  her  hand  to  his  lips,  and 
would  have  knelt  in  his  complete  abasement 
and  reverence  had  she  not  restrained  him,  her 
clasp  on  his  hand  tightening. 

"Nay,  Victor,"  she  whispered,  yielding 
unconditionally  to  the  dictates  of  her  bound- 
less love.  "Once  before  thou  didst  kneel  to 
me,  and  I  in  my  pride  would  not  listen :  now  / 
come  as  the  suppliant  knowing  better  the 
heart  of  the  Marquis  de  Belleamie  as  disclosed 
to  me  by  my  own  love  and  suffering. " 


198  At  the  King's  Pleasure 

"Marguerite,  thou  hast  taught  me  much," 
he  acknowledged.  "Never  did  I  dream  that 
love  like  this  would  come  to  meet  me  on  the 
highway  of  my  broken  life;  that  thou  of  all 
women  wouldst  yield  thy  haughty  spirit  to 
love's  dictates  in  such  glorious  surrender. 
Ah,  Marguerite,  to  win  thee  thus,  with  all  the 
glad  confession  on  thy  lips  and  trembling  in 
thy  glorious  eyes,  makes  perfect  all  the  past 
with  its  blind  misery  and  pain. " 

For  a  moment  their  eyes  held  in  absolute 
understanding,  as  she  lay  in  his  arms,  her  head 
thrown  back  upon  his  shoulder,  her  beautiful 
coils  of  hair  loosening;  then  his  arms  about  her 
waist  drew  her  closer,  and  slowly  he  stooped 
and  kissed  her  lips  with  all  the  reverence  and 
calm  and  trust  which  was  to  rule  their  love 
and  lives. 

"Ah,  Marguerite,"  he  said  at  last,  tenderly, 
"if  true  love  can  atone  for  past  follies  and  be 
worthy  of  such  regard  as  thine,  my  life  will  be 
given  to  thee  to  do  with  as  thou  wilt. " 

"Indeed!"  At  the  sneering  voice  both 
started  in  alarm,  and  Lady  Marguerite,  her 
cheeks  flushing  guiltily,  stared  in^contemptuous 
amazement  at  the  soldier  confronting  them 
with  a  sarcastic  smile.  The  Marquis  merely 
folded  his  arms,  and  looked  steadily  into  Le 
Capitaine's  face. 

"Your  life  lies  in  my  hands,  Monsieur  Du 


A  Dream  of  Spain  199 

Jeuille,  it  would  seem, "  Le  Capitaine  continued 
threateningly,  and  at  his  gesture  his  followers 
closed  in  about  the  pair. 

"Make  no  blind  oaths  of  lifelong  service, 
friend,"  continued  Le  Capitaine,  brutally, 
"for  traitors  do  not  live  to  serve  in  any  cause, 
and  you  are  now  my  prisoner,  not  this  fair 
maiden's,  though  in  a  different  way,  I  vow. 
I  tell  you  now  that  you  shall  die  at  noon 
tomorrow  as  befits  a  traitor,  even  as  your 
friend  De  Monterrat  will  die. " 

"De  Monterrat!"  The  Marquis  exclaimed 
in  his  surprise. 

The  leader  crimsoned  with  sudden  passion, 
and  stepping  toward  the  other  raised  his  sword 
threateningly  as  he  cried  furiously:  "Does 
Monsieur  Du  Jeuille  think  Le  Capitaine  has 
no  eyes?  Was  his  aid  to  his  fellows  very 
hearty  on  the  evening  Monsieur  the  Marquis 
de  Monterrat  turned  traitor?  I  gave  him  the 
benefit  of  the  doubt  then  and  watched.  It 
was  not  in  vain.  Today  he  disappeared  for 
awhile,  and  when  he  was  next  seen  he  was 
coming  from  the  direction  of  the  Chateau 
LeRoi.  When  I  found  the  knapsack  contained 
only  a  worthless  manuscript  the  circumstance 
was  explained.  Someone  warned  the  Marquis, 
and  that  someone  is  the  same  who  has  ever 
secretly  been  his  friend  and  encouraged  him 
in  treachery.  Du  Jeuille  bid  your  sweetheart 


200  At  the  King's  Pleasure 

a  long  farewell,  and  I  will  see  that  she  con- 
tinues on  her  way  with  an  escort  to  protect 
her  from  chance  annoyance. " 

"That  is  unnecessary,  Capitaine,"  inter- 
rupted Lady  Marguerite,  haughtily,  "I  accept 
no  protection  from  the  scum  of  Paris  who  are 
not  only  traitors  to  the  King  but  murderers  as 
well." 

Le  Capitaine  struck  his  sword  angrily  at 
her  insult,  and  his  followers  stirred  uneasily, 
flashing  bitter  glances  in  her  direction.  But 
she  gave  them  no  further  heed,  turning  to  her 
lover,  her  face  changing  quickly  from  haughti- 
ness to  tenderest  regard.  She  placed  her 
hand  in  his,  and  drew  him  apart  from  the 
throng,  while  the  men  looked  moodily  on, 
but  did  not  prevent  their  going. 

"  Where  will  he  take  thee?  "  she  questioned 
breathlessly.  "Where  may  we  find  thee— 
thee  and  this  man  whom  they  call  DeMonter- 
rat?" 

"They  will  take  us  to  the  inn  at  LeRoi," 
he  answered,  simply.  "I  think  they  will  take 
us  no  farther. " 

"If  they  do,"  she  responded,  "leave  us 
some  trail  to  follow;  we  will  watch  for  any 
sign,  and  pursue,  for  I  am  going  to  the  King. 
Fear  not,  we  will  save  you  both. " 

"Marguerite,  my  beloved,"  he  whispered 
brokenly  as  he  took  her  for  the  last  time  in 
his  arms. 


A  Dream  of  Spain  201 

Le  Capitaine  approached  them  impatiently, 
and  Lady  Marguerite,  understanding,  mo- 
tioned Victor  to  help  her  mount.  As  he  stood 
back  with  uncovered  head,  his  eyes  fastened 
on  hers,  she  met  his  gaze  with  one  of  infinite 
trust  and  peace. 

'Thank  God,  I  found  thee  before  too  late," 
she  murmured. 

'Now,  Messieurs,"  she  wheeled  upon  Le 
Capitaine  and  his  men  with  all  the  fury  of  her 
hatred  and  suffering,  "let  me  pass." 

Before  her  glance  and  tone,  they  quailed, 
and,  without  question  or  dissent,  she  rode 
through  the  opening  they  made  for  her,  and 
more  than  one  hung  his  head  in  shame  before 
her  silent  scorn. 


CHAPTER  XIV 
All  Roads  Lead — To  The  King 

At  the  gates  of  the  City  of  Toulouse  Jean 
drew  rein,  and  glanced  inquiringly  at  his  mis- 
tress. But  Mademoiselle  LeRoi  was  lost  in 
thought  as  she  gazed  upon  the  flags  fluttering 
from  the  barricades  and  the  officers  clad  in 
the  uniform  of  the  French  Guards  lined  up 
beneath  the  lofty  city  walls.  Toulouse  was 
clothed  in  all  the  splendour  of  gala  dress — a 
second  Paris  in  brilliancy — and  the  martial 
music  sounding  in  the  distance  proclaimed 
the  reason.  His  Majesty,  King  Louis  XII, 
was  holding  state  that  day,  having  arrived  at 
dawn  after  a  short  tour  of  the  southern  prov- 
inces. 

"Let  us  go  on,  Jean."  Mademoiselle  LeRoi 
smiled  sadly  as  she  spoke.  "It  is  indeed 
fortunate  for  us  that  the  King  is  here,  for  had 
we  been  obliged  to  journey  to  Paris,  we  might 
have  been  too  late. " 

Through  the  streets,  crowded  with  noisily 
cheering  throngs,  they  made  their  silent  way, 
evading  the  bustle  where  they  could,  ignoring 

202 


Att  Roads  Lead— To  The  King        203 

what  rioting  they  could  not  escape,  until  at 
last  they  came  to  the  great,  broad  castle  which 
King  Louis  made  his  temporary  home.  At 
the  entrance  to  the  grounds  they  were  halted 
by  the  guards,  but  Mademoiselle  confronted 
them  fearlessly,  surrounded  though  she  was 
by  rudely  curious  soldiers,  ready  to  mock  or 
jeer  at  any  provocation,  for  on  this  gala  day 
in  Toulouse,  the  flow  of  wines  and  liquors  had 
been  in  no  wise  stinted,  and  few  indeed  of  His 
Majesty's  guard  had  known  when  to  cry 
enough. 

"I  wish  to  see  M.  Beaumon. "  At  the 
sound  of  the  clear,  rich  contralto  voice,  laugh- 
ter and  jeers  were  silenced  upon  all  lips. 

An  officer  bowed  low  before  her. 

"If  Mademoiselle  will  enter,  I  will  send  a 
page  to  find  him. " 

Motioning  Jean  to  attend  to  the  horses, 
Lady  LeRoi  followed  the  guard  into  the 
palace.  In  one  of  the  reception  rooms  he 
left  her,  saying  he  would  send  for  M.  Beaumon. 
She  had  not  long  to  wait.  Indeed  it  would 
seem  that  M.  Beaumon  had  been  beside  her 
before  she  knew  of  his  presence. 

"Lady  LeRoi!"  he  exclaimed  in  glad  sur- 
prise as  she  held  out  her  hand  to  him.  Then 
as  he  noted  her  troubled  face  and  wide  eyes, 
he  added  anxiously,  "Nothing  wrong,  I  hope? 
Lord  D'Antaurier — ?  The  Princess — ?" 


204  At  the  King's  Pleasure 

"I  have  not  seen  them,  "she  replied  almost 
abruptly.  "I  must  have  speech  with  the 
King  at  once.  It  is  life  or  death,  Monsieur. 
Can  you  take  me  to  him?" 

He  wasted  no  further  words.  "Yes,"  he 
responded,  simply.  "Wait  here  while  I  secure 
an  audience. " 

With  a  sigh  of  relief  she  watched  him  go  on 
his  errand. 

Twenty  minutes  later  she  was  ushered  into 
the  King's  presence.  At  her  entrance,  upon 
the  announcement  of  a  page,  King  Louis  arose 
and  came  to  meet  her,  giving  her  cordial 
greeting;  but  all  the  while  his  eyes  searched 
her  face  to  discover  her  mission.  Raising  her 
head  proudly,  Lady  LeRoi  returned  his  gaze 
unflinchingly. 

"Sire,"  she  said  without  preliminary,  "I 
come  to  you  for  aid,  and  when  I  tell  you  of 
the  matter,  I  think  you  will  not  refuse  it.  We 
have  served  you  long  and  faithfully.  Our 
family  has  been  loyal  to  all  sovereigns,  and 
now  my  life's  happiness  is  in  the  balance. 
Moreover,  the  nobleman  for  whom  I  come  to 
you  for  help  is  one  of  your  Majesty's  loyal 
servants,  and  as  such  deserves  your  highest 
consideration  in  his  peril. " 

"  Tell  me  the  circumstances. "  King  Louis's 
hard  eyes  had  softened.  Her  direct  manner 
of  speech  had  appealed  to  him,  as  no  mere 


All  Roads  Lead— To  The  King         205 

plea  would  have  done.  The  method  she  had 
taken  in  asserting  her  rank  and  right  to  his 
attention  had  made  him  resolve  on  the  instant 
to  do  all  in  his  power  for  her;  yet  he  was  a 
man  who  could  be  as  cruel  in  denying  aid  as 
he  could  be  kindly  in  bestowing  it.  Only  one 
woman  in  a  hundred  could  have  succeeded  in 
touching  him  as  had  Lady  LeRoi  in  a  few 
brief  sentences. 

"Will  you  not  be  seated,  Mademoiselle?" 
he  asked  kindly  as  he  offered  his  arm.  She 
unhesitatingly  accepted  it  while  her  clear 
eyes  steadily  returned  his  scrutiny. 

"I  do  not  come  to  beg  for  help,  Your  High- 
ness, "  she  continued  quietly,  "  I  come  to  seek 
for  justice."  Then  briefly,  but  with  an 
eloquence  which  held  her  hearer,  she  told  of 
the  events  of  the  past  eight  days,  ending  with 
the  account  of  Le  Capitaine's  attack  that 
afternoon  and  his  threat  of  death  for  his 
prisoner. 

"The  Marquis  de  Beauchanson ! "  mused 
King  Louis  as  she  ended.  "I  do  not  recall 
the  name,  but  doubtless  he  is  a  noble  of  the 
Provinces  who  does  not  come  to  court.  So 
you  love  this  man,  Mademoiselle?"  He 
laughed  as  she  colored  beneath  the  question. 
"You  need  not  answer,  Lady  LeRoi.  The 
fact  that  you  come  to  me  to  save  him  proves 
it.  And  we  shall  try  to  make  that  trust  not 


206  At  the  King's  Pleasure 

misplaced.  Where  have  they  taken  the  Mar- 
quis, Mademoiselle?" 

"To  the  inn  at  LeRoi,  I  believe,"  she 
answered. 

"You  say  you  first  met  him  eight  days 
since  on  the  causeway,  where  he  rescued  you 
from  Le  Capitaine?" 

As  she  merely  nodded  in  reply  he  continued 
banteringly:  "What  charm  does  this  man 
possess  to  make  you  love  him  in  that  short 
time,  my  lady?" 

"Is  not  that  love,  Sire?"  she  questioned 
challengingly.  "To  me  it  has  always  been  the 
best  and  only  way  to  love — the  instant  reading 
of  one's  destiny.  Why  dally  and  wait  and 
deceive  one's  self?  Do  we  not  know  at  the 
first  meeting  that  here  is  one  we  admire  and 
trust — and  desire?  Or,  at  least,  should  it  not 
be  so  to  be  the  noblest  way  of  loving?" 

The  King  nodded  approvingly.  "  You  plead 
your  cause  well,"  he  said  softly,  and  his  face 
lighted  with  admiration  for  her  frank  sincerity, 
"and  I  will  not  deny  you  are  right.  And  he? 
He  loves  you,  of  course?" 

"He  gave  his  life  for  me,  Sire. " 

"True — but  it  shall  not  be  taken  from  him 
if  the  way  can  be  found  to  save  him.  But 
these  papers  of  which  you  speak.  Where  are 
they?" 

"I  know  not.  Doubtless  the  Marquis  has 
placed  them  in  safe  keeping." 


All  Roads  Lead— To  The  King        207 

"What  were  they?" 

A  moment  Lady  LeRoi  faltered,  then 
unswervingly  accepted  his  question.  'Your 
consent  to  the  marriage  of  Princess  Helene  to 
my  cousin,  Lord  D '  Antaurier,  and  your  pardons 
to  exiles  in  Spain."  Each  clear-cut  syllable 
proclaimed  her  perfect  poise  and  self-control. 

"Zounds!"  Louis  sprang  to  his  feet  in 
terror.  "How  came  you  by  them?"  he 
demanded  furiously. 

"The  first  my  cousin  gave  to  me  to  keep 
for  him.  The  second  were  rescued  by  my 
man  Jean  from  the  hands  of  one  of  Le  Capi- 
taine's  men  who  attacked  and  robbed  your 
messenger  on  his  way  to  Spain,"  she  enlight- 
ened him  calmly. 

"Why  have  you  kept  them?" 

The  note  of  authority  did  not  daunt  her. 

"To  guard  them  until  such  time  as  they 
could  be  of  best  service.  That  time  would 
have  been  when  my  cousin,  safely  married  to 
Princess  Helene,  came  to  you  with  them." 

The  King  smiled  grimly.     "Ah,  yes,  I  see— 
his  pardon  as  it   were.     But  now — suppose 
they  fall  into  Le  Capitaine's  hands?"     He 
had  surrendered  his  blustering  to  her  greater 
dignity. 

;'That  is  why  you  must  save  the  Marquis 
de  Beauchanson, "  returned  Lady  LeRoi, 
evenly. 


208  At  the  King's  Pleasure 

The  King  watched  her  gravely.  "I  cannot 
attack  Le  Capitaine.  To  do  so,  even  if  we 
overcame  him,  and  carried  the  Marquis  away 
in  safety,  means  to  rouse  all  Paris  to  warfare, 
and  to  bring  the  rabble  thundering  to  the 
palace  gate.  I  see  no  way  to  save  him. " 

'You  are  right,  Sire,"  Lady  LeRoi  spoke 
quietly,  though  her  face  whitened  in  despair. 
"Is  there  no  way,  then?" 

"We  must  find  one,"  responded  Louis, 
determinedly. 

"And  I  will  help,  Your  Majesty."  Lady 
LeRoi  arose  as  she  spoke.  "I  thank  Your 
Highness. " 

The  King  also  arose,  and  took  her  hand  in 
his.  "Courage,  my  lady,"  he  said,  cheerily. 
"You  have  not  appealed  to  me  in  vain.  I 
feel  that  the  opportunity  to  serve  you  will  be 
given  to  me — and  let  me  assure  you,  my  lady, 
that  you  have  your  own  courageous  demeanor 
to  thank  for  all  I  may  do  for  you.  I  am  the 
King,  and  as  such  have  bowed  all  courtiers  to 
my  will,  and  thus,  when  occasionally  I  meet 
with  one  whose  assurance  and  pride  can 
match  my  own,  I  am  glad  to  call  that  person 
'friend.'  Lady  LeRoi,  I  am  glad  you  came 
to  me  this  day. " 

He  extended  his  hand,  taking  hers  in  his, 
and  the  gracious  grasp  he  gave  it  brought  a 
flush  of  pleasure  to  her  cheeks  in  realization 
of  the  unwonted  tribute  he  paid  her. 


All  Roads  Lead— To  The  King        209 

In  the  reception-room  Lady  LeRoi  found  M. 
Beaumon  awaiting  her,  and  with  him  Jean. 
Instinctively,  the  noble  felt  the  difference  in 
her  mood  as  she  approached  him.  Her  eyes 
were  no  longer  troubled  and  heavy -lidded 
with  sorrow,  but  hope  and  pleasure  shone  in 
their  depths,  while  her  whole  aspect  was 
indicative  of  renewed  resolution. 

"Monsieur."  She  seated  herself  beside  him 
and  placed  her  hand  impulsively  upon  his 
shoulder,  "I  feel  that  I  owe  you  an  account  of 
my  errand  here,  and  I  should  like  to  ask  your 
advice  if  you  can  spare  me  a  few  moments." 

With  his  ready  response  and  evident  eager- 
ness, she  began  the  account  of  her  strange 
meeting  with  the  Marquis,  and  all  subsequent 
events.  Her  whole  personality  was  shown 
in  the  recital,  and  to  M.  Beaumon  it  was  plain 
how  much  the  past  eight  days  had  meant  in 
the  changing  of  her  life.  When  she  mentioned 
the  Marquis  de  Monterrat,  the  noble  aroused 
from  the  reverie  her  animated  account  had 
inspired,  and  exclaimed  in  new  interest,  and 
when  she  had  ended  with  a  brief  statement  of 
the  manner  in  which  the  man  she  loved  had 
surrendered  all  his  hopes  in  service  of  her,  M. 
Beaumon  arose  in  his  excitement  and  only 
waited  for  her  to  pause  before  he  made  known 
to  her  a  plan  he  had  evolved  while  she  had 
confided  in  him. 


210  At  the  King's  Pleasure 

But  meanwhile,  the  King  had  been  again 
approached  by  a  page  who  asked  admission 
for  a  nobleman  and  two  noblewomen  waiting 
in  the  ante-chamber  to  see  His  Majesty. 

:'You  know  them  not?"  asked  King  Louis, 
impatiently. 

'The  women  are  heavily  veiled,  Sire,  and 
the  man  wears  a  riding-habit  with  a  large 
hood  drawn  over  his  face. " 

"I  do  not  like  it,"  exclaimed  His  Majesty, 
peevishly.  "I  will  not  see  them." 

But  even  as  he  spoke  the  door  opened 
quietly,  and  one  of  the  noblewomen  entered. 

:'Your  Highness 's  pardon,"  she  began 
slowly.  "Will  you  not  receive — ?"  She  had 
time  for  no  more,  for  at  the  sound  of  her  voice, 
the  King,  approaching  her  hurriedly,  cried 
in  pleased  surprise:  "Lady  Montarson!  I  bid 
you  welcome!" 

"I  thank  Your  Majesty,"  and  with  the 
words  Marguerite  threw  back  her  veil,  and 
smiled  up  at  him  tremulously.  The  quivering 
of  her  lips  and  her  unwonted  pallor  did  not 
escape  him,  and  he  went  to  her  side  with  a 
kindly  interest  that  made  her  eyes  lighten 
with  pleasure. 

;<  You  are  troubled,  Lady  Marguerite.  May 
I  not  help  you?" 

"I  come  to  you  for  help,  Sire,  if  you  will 
hear  me.  But  before  I  crave  your  aid,  I  must 


Att  Roads  Lead— To  The  King        21 1 

explain  to  you  a  fact  of  which  you  have  been 
kept  in  ignorance.  You  have  known  me  as 
Marguerite  Montarson.  I  have  the  Princess 
to  thank  for  this  great  favor.  But  in  reality 
I  am  one  who  should  now  be  in  exile  in  Spain 
sent  there  because  the  discontents  of  Paris 
desired  to  see  the  nobles  humiliated,  and 
because  they  had  acquired  a  power  over  you 
which  you  could  not  cast  off.  I  am  Marguerite 
de  Bonnavite. " 

"Lady  Bonnavite!"  The  King  took  her 
hand  in  his  and  looked  with  searching  friendli- 
ness into  her  face.  "How  well  I  can  see  now 
that  you  must  be  she, "  he  exclaimed,  surpris- 
edly.  "Your  mother's  beauty  was  famed  in 
Paris,  and  yet  I  have  not  recognized  in  you 
her  daughter  until  I  have  to  be  told.  We  are 
all  strangely  blind  at  times,  Mademoiselle, 
and  I  am  amazed  that  I  have  not  seen  her  face 
in  yours  these  many  months  that  you  have 
been  at  court.  I  welcome  you  gladly  in  your 
true  name,  Mademoiselle  de  Bonnavite.  And 
now  tell  me  how  you  came  to  France,  and  how 
you  prevailed  upon  the  Princess  to  protect 

you." 

Rapidly  she  recounted  the  events  of  her 
coming,  and  when  she  ended  the  King  regarded 
her  kindly. 

"You  must  remain  with  us,  of  course, 
Mademoiselle,  for  your  pardon  was  written 


212  At  the  King's  Pleasure 

long  ago,  though  doubtless  you  have  not 
received  it,  since  all  those  documents  have 
gone  astray." 

''You  are  wrong,  Sire,"  Lady  Marguerite's 
voice  rang  out  exultingly.  "  I  have  mine  here, 
and  all  the  others  are  at  hand. "  From  her 
bodice  she  drew  a  parchment,  and  handed  it 
to  the  King. 

"  How  came  you  by  this?  "  he  cried,  joyously. 
His  hand  trembled  from  his  excitement  as  he 
glanced  over  the  document  hurriedly. 

"  I  gave  it  to  her,  Your  Majesty. " 

The  King  turned  sharply  at  sound  of  the 
heavy  masculine  voice,  and  faced  Lord  D  'An- 
taurier  just  entering  the  chamber. 

"And  here,  Sire,  are  all  the  documents  you 
signed  and  sent  to  Spain.  You  have  nothing 
to  fear  on  that  account  from  Le  Capitaine. " 

Without  a  word  King  Louis  took  the  packet 
held  out  to  him.  Bewilderedly  he  stared  from 
it  to  his  companions,  but  so  great  was  his 
relief  and  pleasure  that  he  could  speak  no 
thanks.  A  moment  he  struggled  with  his 
emotion,  then  silently  approached  the  noble 
and  wrung  his  hand  with  almost  hysterical 
fervor. 

"Your  Highness  seems  pleased."  The 
merry  laugh  which  accompanied  the  sentence 
relieved  the  situation  immediately,  and  when 
the  Princess  held  out  her  hand  to  Louis  he 


All  Roads  Lead— To  The  King         213 

could  only  smile  benignly,  as  he  greeted  her 
with  her  title. 

"Princess,  this  is  indeed  a  day  of  the  unex- 
pected. " 

"Princess  Helene,  yes,"  she  responded, 
gaily.  "But  to  speak  truly,  Sire,  I  much 
prefer  my  new  title  of  Lady  D  'Antaurier. " 

"Lady  D 'Antaurier !"  gasped  Louis  help- 
lessly, looking  from  one  to  another  for  encour- 
agement in  the  surprise  which  overwhelmed 
him. 

King  Louis  was  not  a  profane  man,  but,  in 
the  superabundance  of  his  relief  in  recovering 
his  ill-fated  pardons,  all  ordinary  language 
failed  him,  and  he  amazed  his  hearers  by 
his  sudden  descent  from  kingly  calm  and 
dignity,  in  an  almost  hysterical  outburst  of 
words. 

"  Lady  D  'Antaurier !  Why  then — Lady  D  'An- 
taurier did  you  say?  Why,  damme,  you're 
married !  D  'Antaurier !  You  villain !  Of  all 
the  lawless,  inane,  reckless,  ungrateful,  med- 
dling— He  broke  off  smiling  in  sheepish 
happiness  as  he  yielded  gracefully  to  the 
humor  of  the  situation.  "O  Lord!"  He 
collapsed  to  speechlessness  with  this  last  cry 
of  remonstrance.  Then  seeing  the  smiles 
upon  all  faces  and  the  joyous  light  in  Helene 's 
face,  he  capitulated  in  surrender  worthy  his 
station.  Realization  of  what  the  restoration 


214  At  the  King's  Pleasure 

of  these  pardons  meant  to  him  dawned  upon 
him  in  that  moment. 

"Well,  by  George!"  he  exclaimed  in  enthus- 
iastic delight.  "It's  damnable!  It 's  glorious ! 
Here,  D'Antaurier!  Your  hand,  Princess. 
Ho,  there,  guards,  a  bumper  of  wine,  and  be 
quick,  for  it's  damnable,  by  George,  it's 
damnable ! 

"  Here 's  to  the  bride !  Princess,  your  health 
— your  happiness!  And  you,  D'Antaurier, 
you  scoundrel!  You  don't  deserve  it — my 
forgiveness — damme  if  you  do,  to  play  me 
such  a  trick!  But  these  pardons!  And  you 
got  them!  Lady  LeRoi  succeeded — and  this 
Marquis  de  Beauchanson —  Deserve  it? 
Damme,  you  do  deserve  it,  D'Antaurier,  and 
here 's  to  your  damned  health ! " 

An  hour  later  King  Louis  sat  in  quiet 
converse  with  Lady  Marguerite,  while  near 
them  Princess  Helene  and  Lord  D'Antaurier 
were  silently  looking  out  upon  the  still  gardens. 
Now  that  the  first  flush  of  triumph  and  joy 
was  over,  there  fell  a  calm  and  hush  of  realized 
hopes  and  satisfying  peace.  Once  more  King 
Louis  was  the  dignified,  self-contained  sover- 
eign of  France;  but  now  there  was  added  to  his 
manner  a  certain  proud  kindliness  and  exalta- 
tion which  was  the  result  of  the  varied  emotions 
through  which  he  had  passed  that  day.  The 
fear  which  had  hampered  him  so  long — ever 


All  Roads  Lead— To  The  King        215 

since  the  pardons  he  had  sent  to  Spain  had 
miscarried — was  now  removed,  and  in  a 
manner  that  gave  him  once  more  complete 
power  over  the  rabble  of  France  that  had 
dared  defy  him.  It  had  been  the  threat  of 
Le  Capitaine  to  use  certain  documents  he 
possessed  that  had  driven  the  King  to  com- 
mand Francis  of  Angouleme  to  wed  the 
Princess  Helene.  But  these  documents  were 
once  again  in  his  own  hands,  and  no  threat 
could  undo  what  Lord  D'Antaurier  had  so 
successfully  accomplished.  Now  that  the 
Princess  was  the  wife  of  the  noble  she  loved, 
and  now  that  the  King  had  regained  his  lost 
pardons,  he  could  rejoice  in  all  that  had  come 
to  pass,  and  admit  that  this  marriage  had  not 
been  distasteful  to  him,  but  pleasing. 

There  remained  only  one  sorrow  in  his  mind, 
and  to  these  few  companions,  whom  he  felt  to 
be  his  friends,  he  voiced  it. 

"Lady  Marguerite,"  he  said  in  softened 
tones,  "I  know  not  how  you  have  won  your 
way  to  my  heart  as  you  have  done,  but  it  is 
true  that  from  the  first  your  presence  at  the 
palace  has  been  a  pleasure  to  me.  This 
Victor  de  Belleamie  who  is  Le  Capitaine 's 
prisoner,  though  he  was  once  my  enemy,  has 
fully  atoned  for  that  past,  and  he  will  be 
received  by  me  with  all  honor  and  forgiveness. 
Fear  not,  my  lady,  we  shall  save  him  and  also 


216  At  the  King's  Pleasure 

the  Marquis,  his  friend.  All  will  be  well 
tomorrow — all — except  for  Francis,  Comte  of 
Angouleme. " 

He  spoke  the  name  slowly,  caressingly,  and 
his  eyes  were  troubled  with  his  sadness.  He 
arose  abruptly  and  paced  the  room  in  his 
unhappy  preoccupation. 

"Eight  days  ago  he  left  me  in  anger — he 
must  now  be  in  Spain — yet  Lord  DeChatton 
followed  to  the  border  and  even  beyond 
without  news  of  him,  which  is  passing  strange. 
I  can  see  him  now,  so  brave,  so  angry,  so 
mocking  and  yet  so  handsome,  as  he  defied 
me,  but  I  hope  his  words  spoken  in  wrath  may 
not  prove  true — 'I  shall  never  willingly  look 
upon  your  face  again. ' 

"Courage,  Sire."  Marguerite  went  to  him 
and  put  her  hand  gently  on  his  arm.  Her 
eyes  were  shining  with  tears. 

The  King  smiled  at  her  sorrowfully.  "I 
wish  I  could  see  him  tonight  sitting  beside  you 
while  you  sang  as  you  used  to  do, "  he  answered 
in  his  self-reproach. 

Lord  D ' Antaurier  spoke  quietly  at  his  elbow. 
"Sire,  a  serving-man  is  begging  admission. 
Shall  I  permit  him  to  enter?" 

"Nay,  I  am  weary,  and  I  must  plan  to 
rescue  this  fair  maid 's  lover  and  also  the  Lady 
LeRoi's. "  The  King  laughed  ruefully  at  his 
poor  attempt  at  banter. 


All  Roads  Lead— To  The  King        217 

D'Antaurier  turned  away  only  to  return  in 
a  moment. 

"He  says,  Your  Majesty,"  he  addressed 
Louis  deprecatingly,  "that  it  is  urgent,  and 
begs  that  you  admit  him  on  the  strength  of 
this  medal." 

He  held  out  to  the  King  a  gleaming  order, 
and  shrugged  his  shoulders  as  if  to  request 
pardon  for  his  persistency.  But  King  Louis 
stared  in  amaze  at  the  shining  bauble,  then, 
raising  his  hand  in  gesture  of  command,  his 
voice  rang  out  imperatively:  "Bring  the 
bearer  of  this  to  me  at  once. " 

Until  Jean  bowed  before  him,  the  King  did 
not  lift  his  eyes  from  the  medal  in  his  hand. 
Into  his  face  had  crept  an  expression  which 
transfigured  it  with  new  kingliness  and  nobility. 

When  the  serving-man  knelt,  he  could  only 
ask  arbitrarily: 

"Where  came  you  by  this  medal,  man?" 

"Sire,"  Jean  replied,  "it  was  given  me  with 
the  suggestion  that  in  time  of  need  I  should 
present  it  to  you  and  gain  recognition  from 
your  hands. " 

"And  you  desire — ?"  King  Louis's  dry  lips 
could  hardly  frame  the  question. 

"To  report  to  Your  Majesty  that  I  have 
two  prisoners  in  the  gaol — one  of  them  the 
murderer  of  the  Marquis  de  Monterrat,  the 
other  a  lieutenant  in  Le  Capitaine's  service, 


218  At  the  King's  Pleasure 

and  his  most  trusted  spy.  I  have  captured 
them  with  the  consent  and  approval  of  M. 
Beaumon  for  the  purpose  of  exchanging  them 
for  the  two  prisoners  Le  Capitaine  holds,  whose 
release  we  desire  to  secure. " 

"Good.  The  plan  is  excellent.  Mademoi- 
selle de  Bonnavite,  the  way  has  been  made  for 
us,  you  see,  and  Victor  de  Belleamie  as  well  as 
the  Marquis  will  be  exchanged  tomorrow. 
But  you,  Monsieur,  tell  me  this—  "  the  King's 
voice  rang  out  in  his  old-time  despotism,  "how 
came  you  by  this  medal?  Who  gave  it  to 

you?" 

"It  was  given  me  by  the  Marquis  de  Beau- 
chanson,"  Jean  answered  unabashed. 

"The  Marquis  de  Beauchanson!  The  Mar- 
quis— de — Beauchanson!"  repeated  Louis  in 
puzzled  tone.  "The  Lady  LeRoi's  guest, 
and  Le  Capitaine 's  prisoner.  And  he — surely 
it  cannot  be.  It  cannot  be.  And  yet — it 
must  be.  There  is  no  other  like  it  in  all  France. 
Ah,  friends,  I  dare  not  hope  it.  I  dare  not 
think  of  it.  But  if  it  is  he,  thank  God ! "  And 
the  King,  swayed  by  his  emotions  for  the 
second  time  that  day  as  never  in  all  his  tyran- 
nical life  before,  bowed  his  head  on  his  hands 
and  wept. 


CHAPTER  XV 
At  The  King's  Pleasure 

Long  and  bitterly  during  the  night  watches 
in  his  gloomy  prison  had  the  Marquis  de 
Beauchanson  reviewed  the  events  of  his  life 
now  drawing  to  its  close.  First  the  years  of 
narrow  compass,  few  aims  and  fewer  achieve- 
ments; then  the  day  of  awakening  to  realiza- 
tion of  the  existence  of  worthier  ambitions 
and  ideals;  next  the  hour  of  his  testing,  in 
which  he  had  accepted  love  in  all  the  glory  of 
its  sacrifices  and  sorrows;  and  finally  the 
moment  of  untramelled  surrender  to  the 
nobler  course  it  demanded  that  he  pursue. 
Thoughts  of  Spain  were  not  absent  from  his 
summary  of  his  recent  opportunities,  and  yet 
he  felt  no  regret  in  recognizing  the  fact  that 
even  at  this  moment  he  could  have  been  far 
over  the  border  in  safety  and  peace — and 
exile — had  he  not  meddled  with  the  affairs 
of  one  whose  name  only  had  been  known 
to  him.  The  past  eight  days  had  taught  him 
much  concerning  his  own  character  and  out- 
look upon  life  of  which  previously  he  had 

219 


220  At  the  King's  Pleasure 

been  ignorant;  the  knowledge  that  he  had 
played  a  better  part  than  ever  before  in  his 
career,  as  well  as  the  unwavering  belief  in  the 
wonderful  love  which  transfigured  the  world 
in  his  eyes,  were  ample  recompense  as  the 
shadows  of  death  seemed  to  draw  closer  and 
heavier  about  him. 

It  was  upon  this  exalted  mood  that  Le 
Capitaine  had  entered  and  proclaimed  to  him 
that  he  was  once  more  saved  from  the  hang- 
man's  noose,  in  that  His  Majesty,  the  King, 
had  commanded  his  presence  by  right  of 
exchange.  The  Marquis  had  raised  his  head 
listlessly  at  the  announcement.  It  was  evident 
that  the  unexpected  respite  held  for  him 
neither  pleasure  nor  relief,  and  in  baffled 
amaze  the  leader  had  exclaimed: 

"  Mafoi,  Monsieur,  what  indifference  is  this 
to  death  by  hanging!  Methinks  it  would 
appear  that  you  had  enjoyed  the  prospect. 
Or  mayhap,  'tis  because  the  King  is  no  great 
friend  of  yours  that  you  are  not  anxious  to 
present  yourself  before  him.  I  do  not  wonder 
for  he  is  no  great  comrade  of  my  own,  though 
I  warrant  it  was  from  a  different  cause  than 
influenced  you  that  I  entered  into  opposition 
of  his  will.  But,  come,  mayhap  another  piece 
of  news  I  have  will  please  you  better,  and 
reconcile  you  to  this  order  of  His  Majesty's. 
It  is  to  Lady  LeRoi,  Marquis,  that  you  owe 
this  lease  of  life. " 


At  The  King 's  Pleasure 

The  half-hearted  surprise  which  had  shown 
in  the  noble 's  face  at  this  disclosure  only  served 
to  complete  Le  Capitaine's  bewilderment. 
He  had  arisen,  saying  dully : 

"I  am  ready,  Capitaine,  to  follow  you." 

After  four  hours  of  hard  riding  the  little 
escort  of  Le  Capitaine 's  men  halted  with  their 
prisoner  before  the  gates  of  Toulouse.  An 
exchange  of  compliments  with  the  guards,  a 
slip  of  paper  presented  to  the  watch,  and  they 
entered  the  city  wall.  In  silence  they  had 
ridden  from  LeRoi,  and  Le  Capitaine  was 
indeed  puzzled  by  the  downcast  mien  of  his 
captive. 

"Monsieur  is  surprised  to  see  Toulouse  so 
festive?"  the  leader  questioned,  breaking  the 
silence  at  last  to  enjoy,  if  he  could,  the  other 's 
discomfiture.  "Did  we  not  seem  illy  equipped 
for  a  journey  to  Paris?  The  King  is  holding 
state  today,  for  Toulouse  received  him  yester- 
day. The  people  are  fickle,  Monsieur,  in 
these  provinces.  In  Paris  it  is  different.  It 
was  a  clever  stroke  of  His  Majesty's— his 
tour  of  the  country  in  hope  of  restoring  peace 
and  of  regaining  his  subjects '  good-will.  On 
seeing  him,  they  forget  his  title  of  'King.'  To 
them  he  is  once  more  the  Due  of  Orleans, 
their  former  friend  and  protector.  That  is  to 
say,  in  the  southern  provinces.  They  are  his, 
but  in  the  north — and  it  is  Paris  and  the  north 


222  At  the  King's  Pleasure 

that  count,  it  is  not  so — they  are  Le  Capi- 
taine *s." 

The  Marquis  vouchsafed  no  reply,  and  after 
a  moment,  Le  Capitaine  made  one  further 
effort  to  prod  him  to  retort. 

"Well,  Marquis  de  Monterrat,  the  King 
seems  a  good  friend  of  yours  to  invite  you  to 
his  palace.  You  are  to  be  congratulated  or 
condoned  with,  I  know  not  which. " 

"I  am  not  de  Monterrat,  as  I've  said  before, 
Capitaine.  However,  it  seems  to  be  your 
destiny  to  mix  names  and  antecedents,"  was 
the  cool  rejoinder. 

"What  do  you  mean?"  Le  Capitaine, 
taken  aback  by  the  unexpected  reply,  wheeled 
upon  him  with  startling  eagerness. 

The  Marquis  laughed  mockingly,  and  even 
as  he  dismounted  before  the  castle-gate  to 
accompany  the  guard  who  approached  him, 
he  flung  back  a  parting  shot. 

"Only,  Monsieur,  that  I  know  more  con- 
cerning your  identity  than  do  you  yourself, 
and,  as  you  rightly  said,  my  reason  for  oppos- 
ing the  King  was  not  identical  with  your  own. " 

Ten  minutes  later  the  Marquis  waited  in 
the  ante-room  to  the  King's  chamber  for  the 
summons  to  enter.  It  was  a  moment  of 
strangely  new  suspense  for  him,  but  when  he 
saw  a  page  approaching,  a  gleam  of  amusement 
twinkled  in  his  eye  as  the  boy  bowed  low,  but 
indifferentlv,  before  him. 


At  the  King's  Pleasure  223 

"If  Monsieur  will  step  this  way,"  he 
drawled,  lazily,  then  stopped  abruptly  as  his 
gaze  was  arrested  by  the  noble's  mischievous 
glance. 

"Monsieur — my  lord!"  The  blue  and  sil- 
ver figure  bobbed  excitedly  as  the  youth,  quite 
overcome  by  the  seeming  apparition,  stam- 
mered and  faltered  before  him,  all  his  indif- 
ference and  ennui  vanishing  with  almost  ludi- 
crous suddenness. 

But  the  Marquis  arose  and  merely  bowed 
mockingly.  In  swinging,  easy  strides,  he 
crossed  to  the  council-chamber,  leaving  the 
page  standing  in  open-mouthed  deference 
until  the  rose-satin  drapery  fell  and  concealed 
him  from  view. 

In  the  council-chamber  King  Louis  waited 
impatiently,  seated  in  state  upon  his  resplendent 
throne.  At  first  glance  the  room  seemed 
empty  save  for  his  somber  presence,  but  the 
keen  observer  would  have  noted  at  once  the 
drooping  figure  of  a  woman  seated  in  the 
shadow  of  the  balcony  window.  Quiet  and 
passive  as  she  seemed,  her  hands  were  tightly 
clenched  in  nervous  expectancy  and  her  lips 
were  white  beneath  the  pain  of  constant 
compression.  With  the  motion  of  the  rose 
drapery  she  had  started,  and  now  raised  her 
head  half  fearfully. 

A  moment  the  Marquis  stood  motionless  in 


224  At  the  King's  Pleasure 

the  doorway,  regarding  the  King,  then  his 
gaze  passed  on  to  the  other  silent,  waiting 
figure.  Instantly  his  calm  forsook  him.  He 
sprang  eagerly  across  the  intervening  space, 
and  kneeling  before  her,  held  her  hands  tightly 
in  his  own.  The  manner  of  his  going  to  her 
was  the  greatest  compliment  he  could  have 
paid  her.  It  was  the  natural  impulse  of 
unquestioning  devotion,  and  she,  realizing  the 
significance  of  his  absolute  forgetfulness  of  his 
sovereign,  flushed  with  the  pleasure  of  his 
reverence,  while  the  King  looked  on  smiling  at 
his  own  predicament. 

"Marie!"  He  whispered  her  name  exult- 
ingly,  yet  with  the  deference  he  owed  her  for 
his  life. 

Freeing  her  hands  gently,  she  placed  them 
on  his  face  upheld  to  hers,  in  a  sudden  gesture 
of  impulsive  gladness. 

"Methinks,  Monsieur,"  King  Louis's  voice, 
hard  and  crisp  with  irony,  pierced  their  dream 
of  happiness,  "the  obeisance  should  be  to  your 
sovereign. " 

The  Marquis  arose  hastily,  stepped  toward 
the  dais,  drawing  himself  proudly  erect,  folded 
his  arms  with  infinite  coolness,  and  looked 
squarely  into  the  King's  eyes. 

"So  it  is  you!"  Sharply  cut  as  was  each 
word,  and  intense  as  was  their  regard  each 
for  the  other,  there  was  neither  surprise  nor 
coldness  in  the  King's  intonation. 


At  the  King's  Pleasure  225 

'Yes,  Sire,"  was  the  calm  response. 

"And  so  you  come  at  last  to  look  upon  my 
face — 'willingly,'  shall  we  say?" 

"Nay,  Your  Majesty,  only  because  the 
woman  I  love  mapped  out  this  course  for  me. 
My  duty  and  my  privilege  is  to  serve  her 
slightest  wish.  She  strove  to  save  me  in  my 
peril,  and  I  accept  from  her  hands  what  I 
would  reject  from  another's.  It  is  merely  my 
tribute  to  her,  Sire,  not  to  you. " 

"Love  gives  you  new  humility,  sirrah,"  the 
King  made  cynical  answer.  "And  have  you 
also  come  at  last  to  do  my  will?  You  appear 
before  me  a  hostage,  and,  as  such,  signify 
your  willingness  to  do  my  behest  unquestion- 
ingly.  You  have  not  forgotten  this,  when  you 
claim  my  protection,  I  trust?" 

"I  understand  Your  Majesty's  meaning, 
but  I  must  decline  to  accept  my  safety  upon 
such  terms.  When  I  refused  before,  Sire,  to 
wed  the  woman  of  your  choice,  I  did  so  from 
a  standpoint  of  principle  merely,  a  simple 
question  of  honor  and  self-esteem;  but  now 
there  is  a  greater  reason  why  I  should  scorn 
to  buy  my  life  by  weak  obedience  to  despotic 
command,  and  to  win  high  privileges  from 
one  who  shows  spasmodic  and  self-interested 
favors.  I  am  pleased  to  think  that  the  love 
I  have  given  to  the  lady  of  my  heart  is  of  too 
high  a  quality  to  be  desecrated  by  this  con- 


226  At  the  King 's  Pleasure 

si  deration  of  a  marriage  for  kingly  convenience. 
It  would  seem,  Sire,  that  I  have  merely 
substituted  captors.  I  am  your  prisoner, 
Your  Highness,  and  I  pray  you  end  this 
mockery  quickly,  else  I  take  matters  once 
more  under  my  own  control.  I  would  have 
preferred  death  at  the  hands  of  Le  Capitaine, 
but  my  love  for  Lady  LeRoi  has  given  me 
strength  to  accept  it  from  your  hands. " 

:<You  have  stated  correctly  the  penalty  for 
your  disobedience,  Monsieur,  for  as  you  know, 
I  have  shown  scant  mercy  even  to  those  of 
royal  blood  who  have  defied  me.  Take,  then, 
your  choice,  sirrah ;  marry  the  Princess  Helene, 
or  die  a  traitor's  death." 

"Your  Highness  knows  what  my  choice 
will  be." 

"Do  you  still  refuse,  then,  to  wed  the 
Princess?" 

:<You  had  my  answer  ten  days  ago,  Sire. 
It  is  the  same  now. " 

"Your  Majesty."  Lady  LeRoi,  wide-eyed 
and  pale  with  the  destruction  of  her  dreams, 
approached  the  throne.  "Surely  Your  Majes- 
ty does  not  mean  that  this  man  must  marry 
the  Princess  or  go  to  his  death.  Why,  Sire, 
she  loves  Lord  D'Antaurier,  my  cousin,  and 
the  Marquis's  love,  also,  has  been  given 
elsewhere. " 

"That  is  for  him  to  decide,  my  lady,  I  can 


At  the  King 's  Pleasure  227 

say  no  more."  The  King's  words  were  hard 
with  a  sovereign's  tyranny  and  power. 

The  Marquis  went  to  Lady  LeRoi's  side 
and  took  her  hand  reverently  in  his,  while  he 
looked  down  upon  her  with  all  the  wealth  of 
his  love  shining  in  his  eyes. 

"Sweetheart,"  he  said,  tenderly,  "thou  dost 
not  understand.  I  came  to  the  King  for  thy 
dear  sake,  but  I  knew  to  what  I  came,  and  I 
am  prepared  to  accept  his  sentence.  Do  not 
grieve,  fair  lady,  what  is  to  be,  must  be. " 

"But  if  thou  wilt  wed  Helene,"  she  cried 
feverishly,  "thy  life  will  be  spared.  So  con- 
sent, dear  heart,  and  relieve  me  of  this  terror. 
Only  to  have  thee  live  will  be  joy  enough  for 
me,  if  I  can  feel  that  I  have  saved  thee. " 

She  put  her  arms  pleadingly  around  his 
neck  and  raised  her  eyes,  full  of  bitter  tears  of 
willing  renunciation,  to  read  his  answer. 
Compellingly  he  drew  her  to  him  and  placed 
his  hand  on  her  head.  Even  before  he  spoke 
she  knew  that  he  would  never  release  her  from 
her  pledge  to  him,  and  with  a  woman's 
contrariness  her  face  lighted  with  her  joy  in 
his  changelessness  and  new-found  nobility. 

"Nay,  Marie,  thou  knowest  not  what  thou 
askest.  I  can  wed  no  one  but  thee,  even  as  I 
know  thou  couldst  consider  no  other  in  the 
light  of  a  possible  husband  under  similar 
circumstances.  Wouldst  thou  have  me  less 


228  At  the  King's  Pleasure 

strong  than  thou,  my  beloved,  wouldst  be? 
Surely  thou  wouldst  have  me  true  to  the  love 
we  have  pledged  to  each  other,  even  though  I 
perish  in  proving  how  dear  thou  hast  grown 
tome?" 

"Thou  art  right,"  she  whispered,  "and  I 
love  thee  for  it.  There  could  be  no  one  but 
thee  in  all  the  world  forever. " 

"This,  then,  is  your  decision,  Cousin  Fran- 
cis?" King  Louis's  eyes  belied  the  sternness 
of  his  voice.  He  came  toward  them  with 
sudden  impulsiveness,  but  Lady  LeRoi,  blind 
to  all  in  the  sudden  knowledge  which  had 
come  to  her,  cried  out  in  consternation  and 
drew  back  from  her  lover's  embrace.  Her 
face  was  blanched  with  the  effect  of  the  King 's 
revelation,  and  now,  trembling  in  her  excite- 
ment, she  looked  upon  the  erstwhile  Marquis. 

"You,  Monsieur,  are  the  King's  cousin— 
the  Comte  of  Angouleme?" 

Her  cold  return  to  the  formal  method  of 
address  did  not  escape  her  hearers,  and  the 
Prince,  in  his  eagerness  to  justify  himself, 
sprang  to  her  side. 

"Mademoiselle!"  he  exclaimed  passionately, 
relapsing  to  the  once  dear  title  by  which  he 
had  first  known  her. 

But  she  held  out  a  detaining  hand  as  if 
forbidding  him  to  speak  further. 

"Mademoiselle,"  he  hurried  on,  refusing  to 


" '  Thou  art  right,'  she  whispered, '  and  I  love  thee  for  it '  " 


At  ttie  King's  Pleasure  £29 

heed  her  gesture.  "Hear  me,  I  pray  you. 
Is  it  my  disloyalty  which  offends  you?" 

"How  can  you  doubt  me?"  she  interrupted 
almost  fiercely.  "Have  I  not  shown  absolute- 
ly my  love  for  you?  Have  I  not  appealed  to 
the  King  for  aid  in  my  despair?  Have  I  not 
pleaded  with  you  to  wed  your  cousin  that  your 
life  might  be  spared?  Have  I  not  proven  my 
faith  and  trust  in  you  with  every  word  and 
gesture?  Have  I  not  gone  to  you  willingly, 
given  you  my  lips  and  my  caresses  which  I 
have  kept  unsullied  for  the  man  that  I  should 
love  and  wed?  And  now  you  accuse  me  of 
being  displeased  at  your  refusal  to  obey  your 
sovereign.  Nay,  Monsieur,  it  is  you  who  have 
deceived  me,  and  played  with  my  love  as  if 
it  were  a  worthless  toy  to  be  used  for  your 
passing  amusement." 

"Marie."  The  word  soothed  her  in  her 
delirium  of  sorrow  and  reproach.  "True,  I 
have  deceived  you,  but  only  in  my  name,  and 
for  the  time  that  I  was  helpless  to  enlighten 
you.  But  you  do  me  wrong  to  tell  me  that 
I  have  played  with  your  love.  I  am  free  to 
give  my  love  wheresoever  I  choose.  I  am 
not  the  King's  puppet,  as  I  am  proving,  and 
I  shall  wed  the  woman  I  love  if  I  live  to  do  so. " 

"I  could  not  consent,"  she  interposed 
hurriedly.  "The  King  could  not  consent. 
You  are  of  the  family  royal,  and  should  you 


230  At  the  King's  Pleasure 

wed  beneath  your  station,  you  would  forfeit 
all  right  to  royal  honors  and  your  possible 
claim  to  the  throne  of  France.  I  am  not  your 
equal  by  birth,  and  as  such  am  barred  from 
your  life.  You  knew  this — and  yet — and  yet 
— you  won  my  love  and  faith,  and  robbed  me 
of  my  happiness!" 

"Hush!"  The  Prince  in  a  frenzy  of  emo- 
tion commanded  her  to  silence.  :<You  shall 
not  say  this  of  me.  My  love  and  life  are  given 
to  your  happiness.  What  is  the  King?  What 
are  honors?  What  is  station,  family,  power, 
and  favors,  even  the  throne  itself  compared  to 
you?  I  do  not  want  them.  I  want  you  only 
and  you  shall  hear  me  in  this. " 

As  one  fascinated,  she  stared  upon  him  in  his 
new  manner  of  authority.  Then  he  went  to 
her  and  took  her  hand  in  his,  as  though  she 
were  a  child  to  obey  him,  and  with  a  sigh  of 
peace  and  contentment,  she  clasped  her  fingers 
about  his.  Having  found  her  master  she  did 
not  seem  dismayed,  but  happy  in  her  surren- 
der, as  has  been  the  case  since  the  beginning 
of  all  time,  and  as  will  be  so  as  long  as  there  is 
a  woman  true  enough  to  glory  in  obeying  the 
one  man  above  all  others  whom  she  trusts. 

''There  is  one  condition,  my  lady,  which 
makes  such  a  marriage  possible,  with  no 
renunciation  upon  the  part  of  anyone  of  royal 
blood." 


At  the  King's  Pleasure  231 

As  if  awakening  to  the  presence  of  the  King, 
his  cousin  and  Lady  LeRoi  faced  him  in  con- 
fusion. But  in  the  King's  face  was  only  a 
beautiful  tenderness,  such  as  none  had  ever 
before  seen  therein,  and  reading  it  aright  the 
Comte  of  Angouleme  went  quickly  to  him  and 
knelt  before  him. 

"Sire,"  he  said,  abashed  in  the  sudden 
understanding  which  had  come  to  him  of  the 
King's  new  kindness,  "I  crave  your  pardon 
for  all  my  disobedience  and  injustice.  I  can 
see  only  friendliness  and  love  in  your  counte^- 
nance  and  speech,  and  I  have  been  wrong  ever 
to  doubt  that  you  had  anything  but  good-will 
and  kindliness  toward  me. " 

The  King  stooped,  and  placing  his  hands 
on  his  cousin's  arms  raised  him.  "So  you  see 
at  last  that  I  am  not  your  enemy,"  he 
laid  his  hands  caressingly  on  his  shoulders. 
"Ah,  Francis,  it  has  been  a  cruel  hurt  to  me 
that  you  have  thought  me  hard  and  unfeeling, 
but  now  methinks  I  can  prove  to  you  how 
great  is  my  regard  for  you,  and  how  gladly  I 
will  pardon  you  and  serve  you." 

He  held  out  his  hand  to  Lady  LeRoi,  and 
taking  hers  placed  it  in  his  cousin's,  as  he 
continued:  "Lady  LeRoi  cannot  gainsay  her 
promise  to  you,  Cousin,  and  I  am  glad  that  I 
can  by  my  consent  make  possible  this  marriage, 
for  all  that  is  needed  in  such  matters  is  the 


232  At  the  King 's  Pleasure 

sovereign's  approval  and  his  bestowal  of  a 
proper  title  upon  the  lady  concerned.  You, 
Cousin  Francis,  could  not  wed  the  Princess 
Helene  if  you  so  desired,  for  she  is  already  the 
wife  of  Lord  D  'Antaurier,  and  I  believe  his 
objections  to  such  an  alliance  would  be  stren- 
uous. As  for  you,  Lady  LeRoi,  such  love  as 
you  have  given  to  the  Prince  is  worthy  of 
every  honor  in  its  consummation,  and  so  I 
ask  you  in  all  reverence  to  accept  from  my 
hands  the  future  title  of" — he  paused  a  moment 
and  chuckled  gleefully — "Comtesse  of  Ang- 
ouleme!" 

His  meaning  was  not  lost  upon  them,  and 
the  Prince  in  a  storm  of  joy  clasped  the  Lady  of 
His  Heart  passionately  in  his  arms,  while  she 
whispered  as  she  yielded  to  his  embrace: 
"  Comtesse  of  Angouleme !  Why,  that  will  be 
—thy  wife!" 

A  little  later,  when  the  Prince  had  partially 
regained  his  composure,  he  addressed  the 
King  in  a  new  excitement: 

"And  now,  Sire,  I  believe  that  I  can  pave 
the  way  for  a  service  which  will  be  as  great  a 
surprise  to  you  as  your  kindness  has  been  to 
me.  You  played  your  part  well,  Sire,  in 
leading  me  to  believe  I  must  still  wed  the 
Princess  Helene,  when  you  knew  her  to  be  all 
the  while  the  wife  of  Lord  D 'Antaurier  and 
had  granted  to  them  pardon  and  restored 
favor. " 


At  the  King's  Pleasure  233 

The  King  smiled  delightedly.  "  That,  Fran- 
cis, is  one  of  the  pleasures  of  life — to  play  with 
my  subjects.  But  of  what  do  you  speak  when 
you  say  you  can  serve  me  again?  You  have 
already  served  me  well,  Cousin,  in  restoring 
to  me  my  pardons. " 

"I  can,  I  believe,  make  Le  Capitaine  your 
friend,  and  not  your  enemy. " 

"If  you  can  do  this,  Francis,  you  can  do 
what  no  man  in  France  can  do,  and  you  will 
win  my  eternal  gratitude — and  any  favor  you 
desire,"  he  added,  laughing  merrily. 

"Mademoiselle  LeRoi  has  in  her  keeping 
documents  which  I  shall  need  for  this.  Couldst 
thou  send  for  them,  Marie?" 

"I  have  them  here  at  the  palace,  Francis, 
and  I  will  go  for  them  immediately." 

"Nay,  there  is  no  hurry.  Stay  thou  here 
for  the  present.  But,  Sire,  if  you  will  send  for 
Le  Capitaine,  I  will  show  you  how  my  boast 
can  be  accomplished. " 

"As  you  say,  Francis,  I  will  send  a  messen- 
ger at  once.  And,  meanwhile,  let  me  suggest 
that  you  go  to  your  old  apartments  and  don  a 
costume  that  befits  your  rank.  And,  by-the- 
way — this  medal—  He  held  out  the  medal 
Jean  had  surrendered  to  him,  and  the  Prince 
took  it  amazedly,  while  he  listened  to  the 
King 's  explanation  of  the  Marquis  de  Monter- 
rat's  death  and  the  capture  of  his  murderer. 


234  At  the  King's  Pleasure 

Thus  for  the  first  time  did  he  learn  why  he  had 
not  been  discovered  in  his  role  as  the  Marquis. 

"But  wait,"  King  Louis  exclaimed  a  little 
later  as  the  Prince  and  Lady  LeRoi  were  about 
to  leave  his  presence.  "It  were  well  to  have 
you  meet  the  Princess  now,  and  her  husband, 
Lord  D'Antaurier,  and  also  you  should  con- 
gratulate the  Lady  Marguerite  de  Bonnavite 
who  is  to  wed  the  Marquis  de  Belleamie,  your 
former  friend  whom  you  have  known  as  Du 
Jeuille." 

"Du  Jeuille  here!  And  he  is  Victor  de 
Belleamie!"  cried  the  Prince. 

The  King  made  his  way  quickly  to  the 
doorway  of  an  adjoining  chamber,  and  raising 
the  drapery  spoke  in  a  low  tone  to  someone 
within.  His  remark  was  greeted  by  laughter 
of  many  voices,  and  when  he  turned  back  to 
the  Prince  he  held  Helene's  hand  in  his,  while 
her  other  rested  on  her  husband 's  arm. 

"Lord  and  Lady  D'Antaurier,"  he  an- 
nounced grandly,  "or  rather  the  Due  and 
Duchess  de  Genest,  for  the  royal  bridegroom 
must  have  a  royal  title. " 

The  Prince  and  Lady  LeRoi  went  quickly  to 
meet  them  to  express  their  delight  and  best 
wishes.  "These,  my  children,"  King  Louis 
added  teasingly ,  silencing  Lord  D ' Antaurier  's 
expressions  of  gratitude,  and  indicating  his 
cousin  and  Lady  LeRoi,  "are  soon  to  be  Comte 
and  Comtesse  of  Angouleme." 


At  the  King's  Pleasure  235 

In  the  midst  of  their  merriment  and  congrat- 
ulations, the  King  took  the  Lady  Marguerite's 
hand  in  his  as  she  came  silently  from  the  other 
room  to  his  side,  while  the  others  were  con- 
versing. Victor  de  Belleamie  followed  her, 
and  no\vT  the  King  placed  the  girl's  hand  in 
her  lover's  as  he  drew  them  together  with  an 
air  of  fatherly  tenderness  which  touched  them 
both. 

"Congratulations  are  indeed  in  order, n'est- 
ce  pas?  "  he  said,  lightly,  to  all  his  happy  cul- 
prits. "But  remember  that  it  is  to  me,  the 
hard,  unsympathetic,  despotic  King  Louis,  to 
whom  you  owe  all  this.  Which  reminds  me, 
Marquis  de  Belleamie,  that  I  have  not  told  you 
that  Lady  Marguerite  shall  not  come  to  you 
dowerless.  As  maid-of -honor  to  the  Princess 
she  is  of  high  station  in  my  court,  and  as  such 
must  have  an  estate  to  hold  a  country-seat  for 
her  entertaining.  Your  castle,  Monsieur,  will 
suffice,  for  yours  is  an  old  and  honored  title 
in  our  realm;  but  Lady  Marguerite  brings  to 
you  as  dower  the  wherewithal  to  support  it  in 
true  grandeur,  and  King  Louis  requests  the 
right  to  give  the  bride  this  wedding-gift. 
Nay,  do  not  thank  me,"  he  added,  as  Victor 
tried  to  speak,  "this  is  my  manner  of  meting 
out  justice  and  mercy  to  those  who  come  within 
my  power.  At  the  King 's  pleasure,  Monsieur, 
you  forget  that  you  are  all  at  the  King's 
pleasure. " 


CHAPTER  XVI 
Night  and  Song  and  Love 

Le  Capitaine  entered  the  King's  council- 
chamber  with  an  air  of  defiance  that  showed 
how  truly  he  knew  his  power  over  the  rabble 
of  Paris,  and  his  power  to  annoy  and  harrass 
the  ruler  of  France.  He  did  not  wait  for 
King  Louis  to  address  him  first  as  court 
etiquette  demanded,  but  spoke  abruptly  as 
he  stood  erect  before  the  throne. 

"I  am  here,  King  Louis." 

The  King  smiled  amusedly,  for  an  air  of 
bravado  seldom  angered  him,  but  rather 
interested  him. 

"So  I  see,  Monsieur,  and,  as  you  seem  to 
wish  it,  we  will  come  at  once  to  the  matter 
concerning  which  I  sent  for  you.  My  cousin, 
Prince  Francis,  Comte  of  Angouleme,  will 
express  my  pleasure  to  you. " 

Following  the  King's  gesture,  the  leader 
wheeled  to  face  the  Prince  who  had  just 
entered.  For  a  moment  he  saw  only  the 
brilliant  military  costume,  upon  it  the  gleaming 
orders  of  army  and  royal  rank,  then  his  gaze 

236 


Night  and  Song  and  Love  237 

wandered  to  the  nobleman 's  face,  and  immedi- 
ately he  recoiled. 

"You!"  he  gasped  in  consternation. 

Prince  Francis  smiled  merrily.  "Even  I, 
Capitaine,"  he  replied  with  a  mocking  bow. 
"Are  you  not  sorry,  Monsieur,"  he  questioned 
after  a  moment,  in  which  he  noted  the  grudg- 
ing admiration  of  his  former  captor,  "that 
you  did  not  hang  me  the  first  time  it  occurred 
to  you  to  do  so?" 

Le  Capitaine  was  forced  to  laugh  ruefully 
at  the  position  in  which  he  found  himself,  but 
he  could  say  no  word,  so  overwhelmed  was  he 
in  thought  of  his  important  capture. 

"I  am  going  to  show  you,  Capitaine,  how- 
ever," continued  the  Prince  almost  kindly, 
"why  you  would  have  been  immensely  sorry 
if  you  had  done  me  harm  in  these  past  few 
days,  and  I  do  not  say  this  as  a  threat  but  as  a 
token  of  my  interest  in  you.  You  doubt  this, " 
the  Prince  added  evenly,  as  Le  Capitaine 
smiled  in  sarcastic  skepticism.  "However, 
this  is  the  point.  You  are  now  an  enemy  of 
the  King,  my  cousin,  and  I  am  going  to  tell 
you  why  you  are  so,  and  to  prove  to  you  that 
your  reason  is  no  reason,  and  consequently 
that  you  should  be  his  loyal  subject  and 
friend." 

"If  you  can  tell  me  that,  Prince  Francis, 
you  will  surprise  me.  No  man  but  myself 


238  At  the  King's  Pleasure 

knows  of  that  matter.  It  is  not  the  usual 
reason  why  men  refuse  allegiance  to  their 
king.  It  is  neither  frenzied  patriotism,  nor 
the  calling  of  a  spirit  of  reform,  nor  is  it 
because  the  King  has  done  me  wrong,  but 
still  it  is  a  personal  grudge  I  bear  him  which 
has  led  me  to  take  up  arms  against  him. " 

"Will  you  admit  that  I  am  right,  if  I  tell 
you  the  true  reason?"  The  Prince  ignored 
the  other's  remonstrance. 

Le  Capitaine's  eyes  gleamed,  and  for  a  few 
moments  he  held  the  Prince's  gaze  steadily. 

;<Yes,"  he  said  finally,  "I  think  that  is  a 
fair  proposition."  His  tone  showed  that  he 
considered  the  condition  impossible  and  that 
he  was  safe  in  such  a  promise. 

:'Your  mother,  Monsieur,  was  the  Lady 
Anne  de  Moiree. " 

At  these  words  the  blood  rushed  to  Le 
Capitaine's  face,  and  he  stepped  forward 
fiercely,  as  his  eyes  showed  how  greatly  moved 
was  he. 

"What  mean  you?"  he  demanded,  as  his 
breath  came  quickly. 

"You  are  the  enemy  of  King  Louis  XII 
because  you  believe  that  your  father  was 
King  Louis  XL" 

"Zounds!"  The  King  sprang  from  his 
chair  in  his  amazement. 

r^!"  Le  Capitaine  was  now  as  white  as 


Night  and  Song  and  Love  239 

he  had  been  crimson.  "How  guessed  you 
this?" 

"Monsieur,  you  are  wrong.  Your  father 
was  the  Marquis  de  Monterrat,  and  I  have 
here  letters  from  your  mother  to  him  which 
prove  it.  Also  let  me  add  that  your  mother, 
Lady  Anne  de  Moiree,  was  legally  the  Mar- 
quise de  Monterrat. " 

"Legally.  Legally."  The  words  were  fraught 
with  the  misery  of  years,  as  Le  Capitaine 
held  out  his  hand  for  the  bundle  of  papers 
the  other  held.  "Ma  foil  The  Marquis 
de  Monterrat — my  father — he  married  her!" 

Feverishly  he  turned  the  papers  in  his  grasp, 
reading  here  and  there,  as  chance  dictated. 
His  eyes  were  sparkling  with  excitement,  and 
seeing  the  expression  in  his  face  the  Prince 
was  moved  to  pity,  for  he  read  as  in  a  flash 
of  inspiration  the  suffering  and  despair  which 
had  driven  this  man  to  avenge  his  fancied 
wrongs. 

"Monsieur!"  Le  Capitaine  no  longer  bold 
and  brazen,  but  deeply  affected,  turned  to  the 
Prince.  "You  know  not  what  you  have  done 
for  me.  I  have  cursed  my  mother.  I  have 
cursed  my  supposed  father.  I  have  cursed  all 
mankind,  including  myself — and  now  you 
give  me  back  my  faith  and  hope.  You  give 
to  me  a  name  and  self-respect.  You— 

He  could  say  no  more,  and  the  Prince  made 


240  At  the  King's  Pleasure 

no  reply  but  held  out  his  hand  and  grasped 
the  other's  sympathetically. 

"Sire,"  Le  Capitaine  turned  to  the  King 
with  sudden  humility.  "I  crave  your  pardon. 
I  have  wronged  you  as  well  as  King  Louis  XI, 
and  I  am  sorry. " 

"Say  no  more  of  this,  Monsieur,  I  under- 
stand." The  King  placed  his  hand  kindly 
on  the  other's  shoulder. 

"This  is  as  much  a  surprise  to  me  as  to  you, 
and  I  shall  at  once  atone  for  the  unhappy  past 
by  restoring  to  you  your  father's  title  of 
Marquis  de  Monterrat,  and  also  his  estates 
which  had  been  confiscated  by  the  crown.  Of 
course  this  means  as  well  the  income  attendant 
to  care  for  them.  This  is  a  pleasure  I  had 
never  dreamed  would  fall  to  my  lot,  and  in 
return  I  only  ask  that  you  will  be  my  friend. " 

"Sire,"  the  new-made  Marquis  knelt  before 
his  sovereign  in  all  the  deference  of  one  who 
has  met  with  friendliness  which  melts  the 
heart,  "everything  that  I  can  do  to  make  your 
enemies  your  friends  I  shall  do,  and  from  this 
hour  I  am  your  loyal  subject." 

That  night  the  castle  in  Toulouse  was 
brilliant  with  many  lights,  and  festive  with 
flowers  and  gala  dress,  for  thus  did  the  King 
celebrate  the  happy  return  of  his  cousin,  as 
well  as  the  betrothals  of  two  of  his  favorites 
and  the  marriage  of  the  third.  The  scene 


Night  and  Song  and  Love  241 

reminded  one  of  the  assembly  nights  of  Paris, 
and  particularly  of  that  one  ten  days  since 
when  the  Comte  of  Angouleme  had  defied  his 
cousin,  and  disappeared  into  willing  exile. 
All  the  proud  nobility  of  France  was  present 
on  this  evening  of  rejoicing,  and  the  castle 
rang  with  joyous  laughter  and  merry  voices  as 
they  united  in  homage  and  congratulations  for 
the  Princess  Helene  and  the  returned  Prince. 

Perhaps  of  them  all,  however,  none  was 
happier  than  M.  Beaumon  and  Lord  DeChat- 
ton  who  vied  with  each  other  in  loving  atten- 
tion to  the  youth  they  had  sought  so  long  and 
vainly,  and  to  the  maiden  who  walked  proudly 
and  happily  beside  him. 

In  the  high  trellised  garden,  in  the  cool  and 
friendly  darkness,  the  Prince  and  Lady  LeRoi 
made  their  slow  way.  Now  that  the  end  of 
their  perils  and  sorrows  had  come  they  spoke 
no  words,  but  drank  to  the  full  of  the  peace 
and  joy  which  had  crowned  their  days  of 
struggle  and  difficulties.  Her  hand  rested 
lightly  on  his  arm  and  his  hand  in  turn  lay 
upon  hers,  and  thus  they  paced  the  fragrant, 
rustling  garden-path,  in  its  soft  light  of  silver 
moon  and  stars. 

"  'And  on  the  ninth  day,'  '  Francis  broke 
the  silence  at  last,  "  '  there  befell  a  great  good 
fortune.'  Is  not  that  what  is  said  of  the 
magic  number  nine?  And  it  is  true — for  me. 


242  At  the  King's  Pleasure 

Today  is  the  ninth  since  I  saw  thee  on  the 
causeway. " 

"And  fought  for  me,"  she  responded  softly. 

For  a  time  longer  they  walked  in  silence  and 
then  again  the  Comte  of  Angouleme  spoke. 

"Hark!" 

From  the  palace  came  the  low,  sweet  notes 
of  a  song  to  the  tinkling  accompaniment  of  a 
harp,  and  they  stopped  to  listen  to  the  tender- 
ly joyous  refrain. 

"In  the  shadows  and  the  gloaming 

Music  falling  clear  and  light, 
Then  I  dream  my  soul's  deep  dreaming, 

Follow  fancy 's  playful  sprite. 
Longings  fill  me  'neath  the  magic, 

Longings  which  I  recognize, 
And  though  wakening  spells  the  tragic, 

I  bid  love  to  tyrannize. " 

"It  is  Lady  Marguerite's  voice,"  he  in- 
formed her. 

Without  a  word  Lady  LeRoi  looked  up  into 
the  Prince 's  eyes. 

"Mademoiselle!"  he  whispered. 

Around  them  was  the  perfume  of  flowers,' 
the  magic  of  song  and  the  romance  of  night, 
and  in  their  hearts  was  the  abiding  peace  and 
gladness  of  unquestioning  love. 


A     000  051  491     9 


